Conversations
by keru.m
Summary: Mac is sent TAD to Germany soon after Harm's return from flying. Absence, as they say, makes the heart grow fonder.
1. Day 1

**Conversations**

--

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

A/N: Takes place after 'Psychic Warrior'. So, to set the scene in 100 words or less: Harm is back at JAG. He tries to hook up again with Jordan – first with the phone call that Mac walks in on, and then at his apartment – but she turns him down. Mac gets Jingo but isn't receptive to Mic's 'romantic overtures'. Harm needles Mac about Mic's behaviour towards her, and then takes it back, saying they have no chemistry.

No real angst in this story, I don't think. Actually, I don't know how I feel about this one. You tell me.

Thanks to janlaw for help with military technicalities.

There are 19 parts in total. Don't get too excited, though, some parts are really, really short. Same as always, I'll be posting one a day – barring any unforeseen happenings.

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1/19

**Day One**

JAG HQ  
Falls Church, VA  
Monday  
0832 Local

Harm sighed as the elevator came to a stop. He took a deep breath before exiting the carriage and walking through the doors to JAG Ops. He still felt … out of place. It bugged him. Coming back to JAG was supposed to be like … like coming home. It seemed he'd conveniently forgotten that you could never go back home. Things invariably changed no matter how much you denied it or willed things to stay the same. Like Brumby taking over his office. And his chair in Mac's office. Even Bud was friendly with the damn Aussie upstart.

At least he wasn't being punished by the Admiral for leaving, like Mac had been. That was something. He'd just have to work a bit harder, he supposed, at finding his footing and at renewing his relationships with his coworkers. But it bugged him. He wasn't supposed to feel so out of place here at JAG. He had to continually remind himself that it had taken him awhile to find his footing on the carrier among all the young pilots full of brash and swagger. Maybe this was no different. Minus the brash and swagger - except for damn Mic who was nothing but brash and swagger. What the hell did Mac see in him. He'd tried to pin a murder on her, and she had dinner with him. He throws inappropriate innuendo at her in the office, and she smiles and laughs and strokes his ego.

Women. Harm scoffed as he entered his office. He put his briefcase down and decided to head to the break room for some coffee.

He'd never flirted with Mac in the office. Much. Well, never so inappropriately. They had an understanding, him and Mac. They were friends. They teased each other. It was all in good fun.

Brumby was just being an overbearing ass. Next thing, he'd offer to father her children…

Harm stopped in mid-thought and mid-stride, just outside the break room. No, he told himself vehemently, shaking his head. It was different between him and Mac. He remembered the look on her face when she'd walked into his office and heard him leave a message on Jordan's machine.

It was different. They both knew that.

"When will you be leaving?" Harm heard Brumby's voice coming from the break room.

"Tonight." Mac's answer followed.

Harm frowned. Where was she going? He sighed. The fact that she wasn't telling him about it first was another indicator of the distance between them. And the place in her life that asshole Brumby had filled.

"I can keep Jingo for you, if you'd like." Brumby offered.

Harm listened intently. Brumby was offering to keep Mac's new dog? How close were these two?

"Thanks, Mic, but I have it covered." She dismissed his offer.

"Alright," Brumby replied unfazed. "But if you change your mind, I did grow up on a farm."

To his surprise, Mac laughed. "I remember, Mic."

Brumby joined in on her laughter. Harm rolled his eyes. He could imagine the pathetic, eager lovesick look on Brumby's face.

"Do you need help packing?" Harm's jaw dropped at Brumby's new offer. Did the guy never let up?

"That's alright, I can manage." Mac's voice held a patient tolerance that annoyed Harm.

"How about I bring dinner by your place tonight? Before your flight. That way—"

"Mic!" She exclaimed. Harm was ready to intervene if Brumby kept badgering her.

"Alright, alright, luv. Can't blame a bloke for trying." Harm could hear the same pathetic eager lovesick smile in Brumby's voice. It made him sick.

Enough was enough. He entered the break room.

"Mac, good morning." He grinned at Mac, who responded with an equally bright smile.

"Brumby." He nodded curtly at Crocodile Dundee.

"Rabb." Brumby responded in kind, then turned to Mac, smile firmly in place. "I'll leave you to it. Have to prepare for court. I'll find you before you head out, Mac." He told her on his way out of the break room.

Mac nodded and then turned her attention to Harm.

"Morning, Harm." Her warm smile made Harm think his day might not turn out too bad, and returning to JAG might not require too difficult an adjustment.

"How's your day looking?" He asked as he searched the cupboard for a mug.

She sighed. "I got a call from my monitor. The SJA at FMF Europe was short-toured because of a family illness. His wife was just diagnosed with breast cancer, so they're being shipped state-side for her treatment. I've been ordered to go TAD to Germany until a permanent replacement can be found."

Harm turned his back to her and picked up the carafe of coffee from the heating pad, trying to hide his disappointment at the news. How was he supposed to get settled back into JAG when Mac wasn't even around? He chastised himself for being slightly selfish.

"That's terrible." He said. For two completely different reasons.

"Yeah." Mac agreed as she watched him pour his coffee. "But her prognosis is good."

He stared into his cup of coffee, and then glanced back at her. "So, you'll be gone, what, three months?"

She shrugged. "Max three, I would think. Depends on when they can find a replacement and ship him or her out."

He sighed. He'd just come back, and she was leaving. He returned the carafe to the heating pad, thinking about the last time they'd said goodbye. She'd offered to water his plants when he'd left…

"What about Jingo? This is pretty short notice. I can watch for him for you…" He tried to shake the awkwardness he felt at offering.

"Thanks," Her reply sounded genuine, so he figured she didn't detect his awkwardness. "But one of the women who volunteers at the animal shelter where they were going to put him down is a breeder. When Louise saw that I was military, she offered to take him in if I ever needed it."

"Oh." Harm hadn't expected her to turn down his offer.

"But," she eyed him tentatively. "I was going to ask you if I could list you as an emergency contact."

Harm grinned widely. She hadn't asked Brumby. He was irrationally pleased that she had chosen him. Maybe things hadn't changed all that much.

"Sure thing, Mac." He resisted the urge to hug her.

"Thanks, Harm." She returned his grin. "I have to go secure my desk, then go home and square away my apartment."

"Do you need any help? I mean turning off the taps, packing up your place, or… something." He was not being pushy. He was being a good friend. He and Mac had an understanding, after all.

"Nah, I got it covered. Thanks." She flashed him a smile over her shoulder and walked out of the break room.

--

JAG HQ  
Falls Church, VA  
Monday  
1046 Local

A knock on his door jamb made Harm look up from the files on his desk. He grinned at the sight of Mac wearing her coat, carrying her briefcase and cover in hand.

"Just came to say goodbye." Her eyes darted from his face, to his desk to the walls of his office and back.

He smiled at her uncharacteristic awkwardness, and waved her in.

He stood up as she walked around his desk.

"I'll miss you." He began, surprised at his own honesty. "I just came back and…"

"I know." She smiled up at him, looking slightly uneasy. He supposed neither of them were used to him volunteering his feelings quite so readily.

"Can I water your plants?" He teased, grinning.

She laughed, and the tension was broken.

"Take care, Sailor." She placed her free hand on his forearm.

"You too, Marine." He put his arms out for a hug. She put her briefcase and cover on his desk, and stepped into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He tightened his hold on her briefly, before releasing her. She took a step back, offered him one last smile, picked up her things and walked out of his office. He watched her retreating form head towards the elevators.

He wondered what kind of send-off Brumby had gotten.

He stared at the files strewn on his desk. Things wouldn't be the same without her around. He was used to a JAG where she was one door down – it was the JAG he'd pictured while he was on the Patrick Henry. And he'd really been looking forward to facing off against her in court. He sighed and settled back into his chair to work.

He really was going to miss her.


	2. Day 8

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

A/N: A refresher: the events relating to Bud mentioned in this part happened in the episode 'Rogue' – the one where Bud is assigned to the submarine that gets 'appropriated' while he's on board. You'll notice as this story progresses that some events mentioned are in keeping with the show, while others are completely not. I think you'll be able to tell the two apart rather easily.

--

2/19

**Day Eight**

JAG HQ  
Falls Church, VA  
Tuesday  
1307 Local

Harm glanced at Mac's office door from his spot in front of the photocopier, as the machine spewed out warm sheets of paper. Her door was locked, the lights turned off. He shook his head and returned his attention to the machine, only to find that the copier had finished its task. Harm picked up the finished copies from the machine and returned to his office.

It was … 1907 in Germany. She was probably in her quarters by now. He didn't think he'd thought about her as much during his entire stint on the Henry as he had in the last seven days.

Why the hell was that.

He'd known he'd missed her when he was on the Henry, had felt her absence to various degrees and occasionally wondered what she was up to, especially as the months went by. He'd had the same thoughts about Bud and Harriet, the admiral ... Admittedly, he only felt it when he wasn't in the cockpit. And he usually clamped down on those thoughts quickly, before they led to other thoughts like whether his life was moving away from him, which led to him asking himself what exactly he was doing on a carrier apart from chasing a dream he sometimes felt he dreamt only out of habit. Those weren't the kind of thoughts that kept a pilot in top form. Those weren't the kind of thoughts he was supposed to be having. And he only had them when he wasn't strapped into the cockpit of a Tomcat.

It had been terribly disconcerting.

He'd never been one to think beyond the next five minutes, especially not since his ramp strike. Such thoughts invariably depressed him – at first they meant thinking about a life that didn't include answers about his father and then it meant a life that didn't include regular trips off of flight decks. He couldn't bear to dwell on disappointment. It was easier to go where the tide took him. Such as to JAG. But was the tide really pushing him back into a carrier? Into a cockpit? He loved flying, absolutely loved it. Nothing really rivalled the rush, except perhaps one of those heated, intellectually stimulating, adrenaline pumping courtroom sessions … especially with a fiery marine.

He paused, surprised at the thought.

When had this happened? Was it presenting a case in court or facing off against her that gave him his high? He'd thought, when he first came to JAG, that he was larger than the four walls of the courtroom. There was more for him out there. He'd been disabused of that thought quickly, although he still sometimes felt it lurking when he was especially frustrated with the slow pace of the law or the interminable red tape of the justice system or the tedious weight of paperwork.

All that aside, it did feel damn good to be back. Even though he felt like everyone had moved and he'd stayed behind, had taken a detour into his past instead forging ahead with the life that he felt was waiting for him.

He felt … dissociated, unsatisfied. Something was missing and he hadn't found it in the cockpit. He was glad though, that he'd gone back to flying, he'd proved himself and now he wouldn't have to wonder. But something was still missing, and it worried him to think that this was what his life was made of: one search after another, one obsession after another – hadn't Mac warned him of that once – never finding satisfaction, completion. It was a dismal thought.

He tapped his fingers against his desk.

He could just call her. Get her number from Tiner…

He eyed the phone on his desk.

How the hell had he managed to not keep in touch with her when he was on the Henry? He'd kept in touch with Keeter since the academy. He and Mac were friends, for god's sakes. She was one of his greatest friends. He wasn't lax with his friendships, or he tried not to be. And after hugging her goodbye the way he had, seeing those tears in her eyes, hearing them in her voice, it surprised him that he'd been able to break contact. A part he didn't acknowledge – not yet – knew exactly why he hadn't called her, written to her. But he couldn't acknowledge that, not just yet.

He'd told her once, that he was responsible for her; he'd saved her life… He picked up the phone. And then what? What would he say? He put the phone back in its cradle. But there had to be some JAG related drivel he could come up with … He picked up the phone again. He hesitated. To hell with it, Hammer, just do it.

He dialled the admiral's yeoman.

"Tiner. Could you give me the number for the Colonel's quarters?" He jotted down the number as Tiner read it out.

"Thanks, Tiner."

Before he could change his mind, he disconnected on Tiner and dialled Mac's number.

He tapped his fingers against the desk as the phone rang. Once. Twice. Come on, Mac. Three times. He was losing his nerve.

"Mackenzie." Her voice filtered through the line. He grinned at the sound.

"Hey, Mac." He responded cheerfully.

"Harm? What a surprise!" She exclaimed. "How are you?"

"Alright. And you?"

"Okay." She replied carefully. His smile faded at the change in her tone.

There was a heavy silence on the line. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Everything okay at JAG?" Her tentative question broke the stalemate.

"Yeah, why do you ask?" He frowned.

"Why would you call if it wasn't work related?" Ever so practical, he thought.

He didn't know what to say to that.

"What, I can't call you, one friend to another, just to shoot the breeze?" He dropped some chaff.

"Sure you can. But you never do." Now she sounded worried. "So spill it."

"What, Mac?" He took refuge in feigned innocence.

"C'mon, Harm. It's been a long day. Just tell me what you need. You don't have to soften me up with some line."

"I'm not! Geez, Mac. Can't a guy make a phone call without getting the third degree?" He decided he felt downright insulted at the implication.

"Okay. I'll bite." She finally gave in.

There was another silence on the line, which she broke.

"So," She said. "How's the weather in DC?"

"Cloudy. Forty percent chance of rain." He replied conversationally.

"That's fascinating."

Yet another long silence on the line. Why wasn't she saying anything. Or had the line disconnected...

"Mac?" He called into the receiver. "Hey, you there, Mac?"

"Yes." She replied evenly.

"Why aren't you saying anything?"

"You called to shoot the breeze, Sailor." She pointed out, obviously still not trusting his reasons for calling. "So shoot it."

He laughed. Typical Mac. He leaned back into his chair. "Alright. Well ..." He searched for a topic of conversation. "Bud had to accompany Raglan on a mission to steal a submarine, yesterday."

That ought to give him five minutes, at least.

"Yeah. I heard. Poor Harriet." She cut the wind right from his sails.

"You did?" It had only happened yesterday. How could she be so well-informed? Especially since they'd gone to great lengths to keep it on the down-low.

"Harriet told me about it in the email she sent me this morning."

"Oh." So much for that. What else could he talk to her about?

"Is Bud really alright?" She continued, to his relief. "And Harriet?" The worry was back in her voice. "She sounded alright, but an email can only say so much."

Harm grinned as he recalled Bud and Harriet's warm reunion in the Admiral's office.

"Yeah," He dismissed her concern easily. "They're both fine."

"What's going to happen to Raglan? A court martial would draw a lot of attention…"

"I'm with you there. I convinced the Commanding Officer not to press charges. But Raglan will never again work for the military."

"That's good." She paused. "So you're getting back into the swing of things?"

His grin widened. It really was good to be back. It had felt just like old times, minus one Marine. "I am. One crisis at a time."

"I'm sure things were a lot calmer before you came back." She teased.

He laughed. "I bet. So," He asked after a slight pause, "How was your day?"

"Exhausting. It's been a week now, and I'm finally getting into the swing of things. It took a while to organize myself and the office."

"Office not up to your exacting Marine standards?" He glanced towards the bullpen. Since his return he'd noted her trademark efficiency in the way JAG Ops was run with her as acting Chief of Staff. She'd been gone a week and it was still a well-oiled machine.

"Hardly." She sounded tired. "But then again, I am replacing a Marine."

"And you thought being around squids all these years would make you soft."

"Live and learn." She replied. "I probably compensated." He thought he heard her yawn.

"I guess I'll let you go." He said reluctantly.

"Yeah. I'd better hit the rack." She hesitated, and then asked. "You really just called to talk?"

"Just thought I'd check in." He said awkwardly.

"Oh. Thanks…" She trailed off, leaving her thought incomplete.

He waited, hoping she would finish.

"Bye, Harm." She ended the call.

He wondered what she had actually wanted to say.

"Goodnight, Marine."

He hung up the phone, unable to keep the slight smile from his face. He picked up his pen and returned to working on the files on his desk.


	3. Day 11

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

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3/19

**Day Eleven**

Harm's Apartment  
North of Union Station  
Friday  
1708 Local

It was a bit late to be calling her … Harm eyed his new roommate. He figured she'd forgive him. He keyed in her number and sat on his couch, waiting for her to pick up. The phone rang once. Twice. He tapped his fingers on his knee. Three times.

"MacKenzie." Her tired voice answered. At least she didn't sound like she'd been asleep.

"Hey, Mac." His smile was automatic.

"Harm!" She perked up. "Now you're calling me after hours on a Friday? Be careful, or I'll start to think you're missing me." He could hear the teasing lilt in her voice.

He grinned.

"Guess who I have here with me?"

"Who?" She asked. He heard the muffled sound of a mattress creaking in the background. He wondered if she was sitting in bed, settling in to talk to him.

"Guess." He insisted.

"Well, it's 1709 where you are. Um ... little AJ?"

"Nope. But close."

"Really?" Her surprise was audible. "You have a kid with you?"

"Think of a different species." He offered her a clue.

"A different species!" She replied, appalled. "Harm, you're talking about our godson!"

He laughed, enjoying her indignation. "What? Kids are messy and have to be housetrained."

"A dog? You have a dog with you? Is it Jingo?"

"Good guess, Counsellor." He leaned back in his couch and eyed his new canine houseguest, who was comfortably settled under his dining table.

"Is Jingo okay? And what happened to Louise? I can't believe you compared our godson to my dog!" She shot out in rapid succession.

"Whoa there, Marine. Take a breath." He waited a beat, and then answered her. "Louise's father suffered a heart attack – don't worry, he's okay." He pre-empted her concern, guessing that Mac was friends with the breeder who'd offered to take care of Jingo. "She went to Ohio to be with him and her mother. So I took in Jingo, gave the poor mutt a home." He finished magnanimously. He was going to make sure to mention this in passing when Brumby was in the same room.

"Jingo's not a mutt, Harm!" She exclaimed. He realized he must've lost points for that comment. Figures she'd pick up on that and not his selfless gesture.

"Then what is he?" Harm picked up a ball from beside him and shook it at Jingo. The dog blinked up at Harm, his eyes shifted from the ball and then back to Harm. He didn't move.

"He's a Labrador retriever." She stated with conviction. Harm eyed the dog sceptically.

"I think." Mac finally added, this time with much less conviction.

Harm laughed. He threw the ball towards Jingo. The dog watched the ball as it bounced once and then rolled to a stop in front of him. He still didn't move.

"He's a mutt, Mac. A lazy one."

"How is my baby?" She was ignoring him.

"Not much of a baby, I'll tell you that." Harm watched Jingo, who was staring back at him, ignoring the colourful ball lying by his paws. "Does he ever move if food is not involved?"

"Harm." She giggled. "Don't say that in front of him. You'll hurt his feelings."

"Feelings, Mac!" He couldn't believe her. "He's a mutt."

"Harm!" She warned, but he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Alright, alright." He relented, and decided to save his reputation before Mac pegged him as an animal hater. "And I'll have you know, Jingo's doing just great. He's made himself right at home under my dining table."

"He probably hasn't made it to your bed yet for his nap."

"What?" He couldn't tell if she was pulling his leg. "He's not sleeping on my bed, Mac." The thought of a dog on his sheets was unappealing, bordering on alarming.

"Hey, I'm not the one you need to talk to about that."

Harm eyed Jingo dubiously. He still couldn't tell if she was teasing him.

"He's not sleeping on my bed." Harm repeated.

Mac laughed. Jingo just stared listlessly at nothing in particular. Harm sighed. Between Jingo and Mac, he figured he was in for an interesting few weeks. On the bright side, caring for Mac's dog already made him miss her a bit less. Just a bit.

"Hey, make sure you take him for his walks." She said. It sounded rather like an order to him, but he decided to take it in stride. He still wasn't sure if Jingo actually expected to sleep in his bed with him.

"I will."

"And you have to feed him twice a day."

He grinned at her apparent worry.

"I know." He patiently indulged her.

"And make sure he has enough fibre in his diet."

"Mac." He laughed. "Stop worrying."

"I'm not worrying." She defended.

"Louise gave me a list of instructions. I'll follow them to the letter, I promise."

There was silence on the line.

"Okay?" He asked gently, thankful that she couldn't see his face right now. This side of Mac was very amusing.

"Okay." She replied reluctantly.

He laughed, enjoying how unlike her no-nonsense self she sounded. "So I guess your maternal instincts extend to man's best friend." He couldn't help himself.

"Man's?" The challenge in her voice renewed his laughter.

"And woman's." He amended graciously, still chuckling.

"Thank you." She said righteously, on behalf of women everywhere; it further fuelled his amusement.

"And thank you for taking care of him, Harm." Her tone softened, causing his laughter to fade into a warm smile.

"My pleasure, Mac." He eyed poor, lethargic Jingo who hadn't moved from his spot. "We'll bond. Spend some quality time together. Man to man." He proclaimed, trying to needle her.

"Don't corrupt my dog, Harm." She warned.

"I won't." He looked at Jingo, who was staring at him through big, brown eyes. He addressed the dog. "Will I, boy? No I won't."

Mac laughed. "Aw. I miss my baby."

"I miss you, too, Mac." Harm grinned.

"Harm!" Her laughter deepened. His grin widened.

"It's been a long week for me." She said, once they'd settled into a comfortable silence. "I should get going. Goodnight, Harm."

"Night, Mac."

Her soft laughter drifted through the line as he disconnected. It was a nice sound to end the day on, he decided.

Harm raised an eyebrow at Jingo as he tossed the cordless phone on the couch besides him. Jingo lifted his chin to look at Harm.

"Well, boy. It's just you and me."

Jingo blinked lazily, and dropped his chin to rest on the floor.

"I'm looking forward to it, too." He stood up and headed towards his room.

Harm stopped when he noticed that Jingo was following him. He eyed Jingo warily.

"You're not sleeping on my bed." He warned.

Jingo looked up at him and blinked again, simply waiting.

"Jingo." Harm warned again.

The dog didn't move, just kept studying Harm with a tolerant curiosity.

Harm sighed and resumed walking to his room. Jingo followed, falling into step beside him.

Harm shook his head. "You have a lot in common with Mac, you know." He told the dog, mildly exasperated. "You're both stubborn and hard-headed."

A thought occurred, causing Harm to give Jingo his full-blown grin. "Except she's never been so insistent on sharing a bed with me." He laughed at his own joke, but Jingo didn't respond.

"Yeah, she doesn't find my jokes funny either, buddy." He watched as Jingo clambered onto his bed and settled in to sleep.

Harm placed his hands on his hips as he watched the dog sprawled over his sheets. Definitely an interesting few weeks. He shook his head, and headed to his washroom to get ready for bed.


	4. Day 15

Disclaimer: Don't own'em.

A/N: Stuff that happened to Harm in Contemptuous Words applies.

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4/19

**Day 15**

Mac's Quarters  
Germany  
Tuesday  
2235 Local

Mac picked up the phone in her quarters and dialled Harm's number. Hopefully she could catch him at work, before he left for the day. She wanted to congratulate him in person…

"Rabb." His clipped reply came through the line.

"I hear congratulations are in order, Commander!" She grinned, genuinely happy that he was promoted a rank. Hopefully this would make his transition back to JAG all that much easier.

"Thanks, Mac." She could hear his smile. "And thanks for the email."

"I just wish I could've called. Everything that could've gone wrong at the office did today. I just came in."

"I probably wouldn't have been able to take the call." He waved away her apology.

"It's good you were cleared from writing the editorial piece." Mac sat on her bed, leaning against the headboard. She rested the phone between her ear and shoulder, and began massaging her foot with her now free hands. After the day she'd had, her feet were killing her.

"Was there ever any doubt." He stated, arrogance firmly in place.

She stilled in her movements, recognizing that tactic.

"How are you, Harm? Really?" She prodded. There was more to this story, she was sure.

"Alright," Was his reply. He sounded … a bit down.

She tried to assess his mood. It was a bit difficult to do through the phone, across thousands of miles of distance.

"I'm fine, Mac." He repeated after a moment's silence.

"Good." She replied, still not completely convinced.

"Did I thank you for your offer to help out?" He was trying to change the subject. She went along.

"It was nothing, Harm. What are friends for." She opted to lighten the conversation. "Besides, you might not be so grateful for long."

"Why not?" Came his confused reply. She'd bet good money he was frowning, with that cute little furrow on his brow.

"Well, I do think I have seniority over you, right?" She grinned, imagining the look on his face.

He groaned. "Mac."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you don't forget." This was really fun.

"You're right. I take it back." She pictured him rolling his eyes, leaning back into his chair.

She laughed at the image.

"Seriously, good for you, Harm." She paused, debating the merits of asking her next question, unsure if she would like the answer ... Oh, to hell with it.

"Everything going well at JAG?"

There was a beat before he answered.

"Yeah. But things aren't the same." He sighed. "I guess that's just how things work, isn't it?"

"I'd guess so," She didn't like the wistfulness in his tone. "Things always change. But sometimes for the better, right?" She didn't like hearing him sound so … not satisfied. It made her feel uneasy. It worried her, for selfish reasons. He'd just come back…

His sounded distant as he replied, his thoughts far away. "Yeah. Sometimes for the better."

"It was good for you, Harm, flying. It was something you needed to do." She was relieved that she sounded more sincere than hurt. But months at JAG with him on a carrier allowed her to put some things into perspective. Or so she told herself.

"I know. I don't regret it." His conviction was evident. Thank goodness.

"And you're back right where you were at JAG." She reasoned. "The Admiral didn't put you on his shit list."

Harm laughed. "That the voice of experience talking?"

She sighed dramatically. "This wisdom was hard-earned, Sailor. Don't knock it."

"Thanks, Mac." He sounded better, she decided. Less worried.

"Stop thanking me, Harm." She smiled. "But you're welcome."

They sat in a silence she didn't really want to break.

"You should head home, Harm. And celebrate."

"With Jingo." He added.

"Jingo!" She brightened at the mention of her baby. Who knew she'd get so attached, so quickly to a retired drug-sniffing dog. "How's he doing?"

"Great, Mac. I turned him into a vegetarian."

"Harm!" If she wasn't convinced he was teasing her about Jingo, she would've regretted her decision to put him down as emergency contact. In fact, she probably would've boarded the next plane to DC.

"Thanks for taking care of him, Harm."

"Stop thanking me, Mac." He paused. He was smiling, she knew. "But you're welcome."

She grinned at his reply. Typical Harm.

"Goodnight, Harm. Go home. Celebrate. That's an order," She added the last bit just to annoy him.

"Night, Mac." His gentle laughter drifted through the line as she hung up. It was a nice sound to end the day on, she decided.


	5. Day 18

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

A/N: Two parts today, since they're so short. Thought it was only fair.

--

5/19

**Day 18**

JAG HQ  
Falls Church, VA  
Friday  
1325 Local

"Mackenzie." She answered the phone after five rings, sounding out of breath.

"Hey, Mac."

"Harm." She replied distractedly.

"Am I calling at a bad time?" He hoped not. He was a bit bored of the paperwork in front of him, and thought he'd see if she was in the mood to offer a welcome distraction.

"Well, I was actually about to head out. One of the Marines I work with – a Lt. Colonel – offered to show me around. I haven't really had a chance to do much beyond work, sleep and eat since I got here. I'm supposed to meet Leslie in five minutes. Wait. Make that four."

He laughed at her precision. "Punctuality is overrated, Mac."

"We'll never agree on that point, Harm." She scolded good-humouredly. "Did you call about something in particular?"

"No. Just, you know, see how you were doing." So much for that. Now he'd really have to get some work done.

"Bored are you?" She laughed. "Suck it up, Navy, and get back to work."

"Have fun, Mac." He replied, ignoring her comment. He was not that transparent.

"I plan to." She returned. It wasn't often that he heard her sound this light-hearted and worry-free. Good for her. He glanced at the papers on his desk and bit back a sigh. Oh, well.

"Bye, Mac." He waited until he heard the click of the line disconnecting before replacing the receiver on its cradle.

It occurred to him, as he hung up, that Mac had a point. He hadn't done much other than work, eat and sleep since he'd come back. He hadn't wanted to be caught slacking, or appear to be giving less than his hundred percent after coming back. At least not so soon after his return. But he deserved some time to himself, to have some fun. He could take Jingo to the airfield tomorrow. He'd fly Sarah, and Jingo would think he'd gone to doggie heaven with all the grass and open spaces.

Alright. Harm nodded decisively. He whistled as he turned his attention back to his work. He was going flying this weekend.


	6. Day 22

Disclaimer: Don't own'em.

--

6/19

**Day 22**

JAG HQ  
Falls Church, VA  
Tuesday  
1343 Local

"MacKenzie." She answered after the first ring. That itself brightened his dismal mood.

"Hey, Mac." He responded, sounding miserable even to his own ears.

"Harm. How're you?" He heard the worry in her voice.

"Ah," he said dismissively. "I'm alright. Long week."

"It's 1343 EST. On a Tuesday." She sounded amused.

"I know." He sighed heavily, and turned his chair to face the window looking outside. He wanted to forget about JAG and bullpen for awhile. Today had been a long and boring day, and he was just halfway through it. Days like this really made him miss his Tomcat.

"Did you just lose a case to Brumby?" She teased.

"No!" He exclaimed indignantly, straightening in his chair. How insulting. "I could beat Brumby with one hand, half a brain, and a third of a tongue." He bragged modestly.

She just laughed in response.

He snorted, unimpressed by how much his irritation with Brumby seemed to amuse her. But wait, wasn't it Keeter who always said why get upset when he could get even. He grinned at the thought. Keeter was always full of great advice.

"Although it's even easier to beat him these days." Harm began casually, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "He's been walking around looking a little lost since you left."

Her laughter stopped abruptly. His grin turned diabolical. Take that, MacKenzie.

"Harm." All trace of amusement vanished.

He happily ignored the warning in her tone.

"I think he misses you." Harm continued. He leaned back in his chair and pictured the look on her face. "He keeps staring at your office."

"Harm." She repeated.

Warning bells blared in his head. He ignored them.

"He started talking about you earlier, too, when we were heading to court."

"Harm." Her tone brooked no room for nonsense. "I swear I'm going to hang up."

This was fun. All Harm's worries over his dull day faded.

"He even had a Beltway Burger for lunch." Harm added. He'd really missed pushing her buttons. "Said the smell of overcooked meat reminded him of you."

He waited for her to say his name again in that way he thought only she could, but all he heard was silence. He frowned.

"Mac?" He sat up straight in his chair. "Hey, you there?"

He heard a click followed by the beeping of a disconnected line. He pulled the receiver away from his ear and stared at it.

Did she actually hang up on him? No way.

He redialled her number and had to wait four rings for her to pick up.

"Yes?" She answered with forced patience.

"Mac!" He exclaimed, not even giving her a chance to speak further. "I can't believe you hung up on me!"

"You know, Harm," She was wrestling between annoyance and amusement – he could tell. "If it were possible to hang up on you every time you did or said something stupid, I'd have taken advantage of it a long time ago."

"I can't believe you hung up on me. I was just kidding around." When was the last time someone had hung up on him? How rude. "You didn't need to hang up."

"I like this new dynamic in our relationship." Her tone was unrepentant, and maybe a bit more amused than annoyed.

"Mac." He warned.

"What, Harm?" Now she was definitely more annoyed than amused. "You really didn't expect me to just sit here and listen to you say inappropriate things about Mic, did you?"

"I can't believe you hung up on me." He repeated, though only to avoid having her dress him down from across the Atlantic. He didn't think he'd missed this part while he was away. "You're the one who said I lost the case to Brumby." So maybe he'd missed this part just a little.

She sighed. "Goodnight, Harm."

"No. Wait, Mac." He rushed, hoping she wouldn't hang up again.

"What is it?" She sounded tired and a bit frustrated. He felt bad about it.

"Don't hang up upset."

"I'm not upset." She sounded upset.

"You sound upset."

She took a deep breath, but didn't say anything.

"Let me tell you about my day," He cajoled. "Then you tell me about yours."

There was a long pause.

"Alright." She gave in finally. "But let me put you on speaker so I can start getting ready for bed. You aren't the only one who's had a long day."

Harm had to pause at her request. The thought of talking to her while she undressed for bed was … something. He leaned back in his chair, and pictured her moving about in the dim lamplight of her room, brushing her hair and removing her make-up, or whatever it was she did when she got ready for bed. Come to think of it, what did she do when she got ready for bed?

"Okay. Can you hear me?" Her voice, slightly tinny through the connection, sounded in his ear.

"Yeah. Loud and clear."

He listened to the sounds of her moving about her room. A drawer opened. What was she pulling out? Pyjamas? Did she still have those cowboy ones, he wondered…

"Harm?" She said, a little too loudly. "Are you still there?"

"Uh, yeah." He pulled himself away from those disconcerting thoughts of Mac undressing and of bed time routines. Where was this coming from. "I'm here."

He tried to think of something to say.

"We have a new junior officer on board. Lieutenant Loren Singer." He remembered Singer bluntly requesting to work with him. She sounded like a straight shooter. And gutsy. Maybe a bit abrasive and in-your-face.

"You're impressed by her." Mac stated in response.

Harm started. How the hell could she tell from just one sentence. And it wasn't that he was impressed…

"No. Well, I mean, I haven't seen her in action yet. In court. We just talked. She has a straightforward style. You'd appreciate it."

"Let me guess." From the amused lilt in her voice, he knew he was in for it. "She said your reputation preceded you and she couldn't wait to sharpen her claws on you."

What the hell. He wondered just how far her so-called psychic abilities extended. This was just freaky.

"Did I get it right?" She prodded.

The way she said it made it sound he had this massive ego. Which he didn't.

"So did you have a good time last Friday, see the sights?" He deflected.

"Ha. Nice try." She stated, vindicated. He consoled himself that he'd managed to entertain her so thoroughly.

"Witness is unresponsive." She teased. Damn, did she also know how to push his buttons. Well, all's fair in … war – he caught himself before any stray thoughts exposed themselves.

"Counsel is badgering the witness." He shot back.

She laughed. "Actually, I think you and Mic agree about Singer."

That caught him short. She'd been keeping in touch with Brumby?

"What? Brumby?" He stuttered.

"Yeah, Mic said the same thing about the new Lieutenant."

"What?" He repeated. He must've misheard.

"I said," She repeated, more loudly this time. "Mic said the same thing."

"Mic?" He glanced towards the Aussie's office.

"Yeah." She confirmed casually, like it wasn't such an unusual occurrence. "We talk regularly. He calls about once a day. He's a lot like you."

Harm felt a bit light-headed. What the hell was Mac doing. For god's sake … and she'd said they were, what? Alike? Christ. She, that is, he … they … how could … What?

He was pretty sure his brain just ceased to function. "Wha…"

To his utter surprise, she broke into a hearty laughter. "Alright." She rubbed it in. "Now we're even."

He let out a breath he didn't realized he was holding. He could actually feel the cogs in his brain begin to move again.

"Not funny." That had to be the worst joke ever. Him and Brumby alike … He remembered Keeter's words again. "And we're far from even." He added.

He chided himself for getting all worked up. They had no chemistry. Of course they weren't keeping in touch.

Were they?

Did he dare ask? She'd probably let him have it with both barrels.

"It's late, Harm. I really do need to get to sleep." She cut into his thoughts.

Well, he couldn't ask now. She was obviously tired.

"Sweet dreams, Mac."

"Night, Harm." He heard the bed squeak, and the soft sound of the mattress being settled upon. It was an oddly comforting sound.

Another thought came to mind. He wondered….

"Say, Mac…" He called out before she could disconnect.

"Hm?" She sounded like she was drifting away.

"What exactly did you mean getting ready for bed?" He asked, and braced himself for her reaction. Whatever it might be.

"What?" She sounded a bit more alert. And very confused.

"You said you were getting ready for bed. What did that mean?" He grinned. "Are you wearing pyjamas? Or…"

"Goodnight, Harm." She sighed. It was the same tolerant sound Jingo had been directing at him since he'd moved in.

"Wait, Mac. I'm just curious…"

He heard a click and then the beeping of a disconnected line. He grinned into the receiver, picturing the look of amused exasperation she must be wearing after hanging up on him, as she settled under the covers for sleep.


	7. Day 29

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

--

7/19

**Day 29**

Mac's Quarters

Germany

Tuesday

1949 Local

Mac settled herself on her bed, newspapers, cotton swabs and nail varnish in hand. She'd finished early today – well, more like on time for once – and decided to spend the evening pampering herself. She'd given her feet a much-needed pedicure and was all set to paint her toenails.

She'd put on the primer coat and had just uncapped her bottle of nail polish when the phone rang.

Mac grinned. It was Harm's time envelope, as she liked to call it. Tuesdays, between 1300 and 1400 EST. She made a point of being in her quarters for that hour-long block. Talking to him was something she really looked forward to.

She picked up the receiver and tucked it between her ear and shoulder, so she could continue working on her nails.

"Mackenzie."

"Hey there, Mac."

"Hi, Harm." She greeted him. "How's JAG treating you."

"Like a scorned lover." He sighed heavily.

She had to laugh at that.

"You sound like you're in a good mood." He asked. The curiosity in his tone made her smile. She wondered what it was about Tuesdays at this hour that bored him so much. Maybe it was his time for catching up on paperwork.

"Hm. I finished work at a decent hour today. Took a long soak in the too-small tub, treated myself to a pedicure and am now," she bit her lower lip for a moment as she concentrated on putting some varnish on her small toe, "And am now painting my toe nails."

"Marine green?" He teased.

She rolled her eyes. God knows what he thought she did in her off-hours.

"Fire engine red, if you must know."

He laughed. "If only the Corps knew they had a rebel in their ranks."

"That's okay." She grinned. "I know where to find a good lawyer."

"I thought you only painted your toenails when Chloe was over." He asked with genuine interest.

"Hardly." She laughed. What exactly _did_ he think she did in her off-hours? Sit in uniform and wait for the call of duty? "I do change out of uniform off-hours, you know."

"Well, I now know that behind that squared away uniform, beneath those standard issue pumps, lie ten fire engine red toenails." He paused. "And a tattoo, although I'm not clear on the location of that."

She decided it was time to stop this line of questioning. "Red light."

He laughed. "Would that be a fire engine red, Marine?"

She rolled her eyes again, and actively tried to change the subject. "Give me some news. I have to live vicariously through you."

"Most people do." He stated with a mock arrogance had her shaking her head in amusement. "It's quite a responsibility for me to make sure no one gets bored."

"Be serious, Harm. I'm stuck here painting my toenails with no one but you to talk to." She kidded.

"Ouch, Marine! Be kind: I'm all you have for vicarious living."

She laughed. "Come on, Harm."

"Alright, alright. Let's see. Our godson stopped by the office today. AJ's growing like a weed."

She could hear his smile over the line, and chuckled at his enthusiasm.

"Isn't he? Harriet's been emailing me pictures almost daily. I invoked my godparental privileges and pretty much demanded it." She tried not to sound too wistful. "I miss the little tyke. I was working on having his first word be 'Mac'."

She heard him sigh heavily, and then nothing but silence.

"Harm? You still there?" She took the telephone receiver back in her hand.

"Yeah." He sounded downright dejected.

"You okay?"

"You're a lot better than I am." He said thoughtfully, after a few moments of silence.

"What?" Mac frowned. Where was this coming from.

"I didn't ask Harriet for daily updates. When I was on the carrier." He confessed. "She sent me photos once in awhile, you know in those general email lists she sent to all friends and family."

Mac didn't know what to say to that, had wondered in fact why he'd gone incommunicado while he was flying. Especially after the heartfelt goodbye in his office. She sometimes wondered if they would have kept in touch if she hadn't made such a big deal of the goodbye, if she'd asked him about emails instead of watering plants.

Although she hadn't exactly gone out of her way to keep in touch with him. She'd often debated the merits of just contacting him, but she honestly didn't think he'd want the intrusion. He'd left to recapture his dream of being a pilot. That could only mean JAG was a stopgap, something to do while he dreamed about doing something else. Or maybe she was just rationalizing her hurt. She had promised herself years ago that she would never again be the one left behind.

She sighed.

Whatever the reasons, they hadn't kept in touch, and that was that. It did make her wonder why he was so keen on calling her and emailing her this time. Maybe because this time she was assigned to go TAD and hadn't chosen it? Maybe because he was still adjusting to being back at JAG? Maybe because she was pretty much guaranteed to come back? Maybe because he was the one left behind.

She decided she may never understand the way Harm's brain worked. But maybe this was her chance to try and gain some insight, at least about his complete absence while he was flying. He was thousands of miles away and sounded like he was in a thoughtful mood; she might actually get an answer.

"Why didn't you?" She asked softly, and resisted the urge to cross her fingers.

"I …" He sighed. There was a long pause, and she considered recanting her question. Before she could, however, he continued. "I … the carrier was a kind of bubble. I could, pretend, I guess, that I was back where I was supposed to be, that nothing had changed. And that nothing was changing, either."

"Trying to ride two horses at once." She offered.

He laughed. "That's one way to put it."

She considered his words, her eyes fixed on her fire engine red toe nails. She regretted his leaving so deeply, took it personally when she knew she had no right to. When he didn't see it as legitimately affecting anyone but himself. Did he come back because life on the carrier didn't measure up to his dream, or was he finally taking his responsibilities seriously? Then again, he was an adult, a newly re-minted bachelor, and lived alone. What responsibilities did he have?

"Mac?"

"Yeah, still here." His voice shook her from her thoughts. "Lost in thought."

"Penny?" He asked gently. Did he expect her to be as honest with him as he'd just been with her?

"Exchange rate doesn't make it worth my while, Sailor." She deflected, laughing away his question. Her thoughts were getting too heavy for comfort. And she definitely wasn't ready to 

share. "On that note, I'm going to hit the rack. Goodnight. Give AJ a huge kiss and hug from me. And Jingo."

"I'll do the first. I draw the line at the second." She could picture him smiling as he said this. "Sweet dreams, Marine."

"Have a good night, Harm." She replied, distracted by the content of their conversation. "Bye."

She disconnected the line and stared at the phone for a long time, lost in thought.


	8. Day 43

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

--

8/19

**Day 43**

Mac's Quarters

Germany

Tuesday

1947 Local

"MacKenzie." Mac answered her phone. Right on time, she thought, although she hadn't been expecting a call from him this week. He'd emailed her last Monday, to let her know he was being sent to investigate a mishap on a carrier. He'd emailed her on Friday saying he wasn't sure when he'd be able to wrap things up.

"Hey, Mac." She could hear the smile in his voice. She wondered if he looked forward to these calls as much as she did.

"Harm. This is a pleasant surprise. You wrapped up the investigation on the carrier?"

"Just got back Sunday night."

"And?" She asked, a bit anxious about his reply.

"And what?" He played dumb.

"Well, you were there for over a week. It was your first time back on a carrier." She replied patiently. He could make things so difficult for her.

"Oh, that." He replied offhandedly.

"Yeah, that." Who did he think he was kidding.

"It was good." He replied in the same offhand tone. "I guess you can take a sailor out of the carrier, but you can never take the carrier out of the sailor."

She laughed. "Poetic. Would that be the sailor talking, or the carrier?"

"Cute, Marine." He paused and she could hear his thoughts wander. "But it did feel good to go back. It also felt good to know I'd be coming back to JAG when the investigation was over."

"That's something." She answered, genuinely surprised at his words. She never would've thought…

"It is, isn't it?" He said. "Maybe I'm just ready to settle down."

She was convinced he must be pulling her leg. "Harmon Rabb Jr.: settling down? That'd be the day."

"Hey, it could happen." He replied, laughing with her.

Her pager beeped, interrupting the fun she was having at Harm's expense.

"I have to go, Harm. My pager just went off. I've been trying to get in touch with a witness…"

"Oh, alright. I'll talk to you next week, then." She thought he sounded a little disappointed.

"Sorry about the interruption." She offered.

"Not a problem, Mac. Goodnight."

"Night, Harm."

She sighed as she hung up. As Chloe would say: sometimes, work sucked.


	9. Day 47

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

A/N: I'm glad you guys are liking the 'slow' progression of things between Harm and Mac, I was a bit worried you'd be bored. Fear not, the plot starts thickening now ... I quite like how this part turned out. You'll all remember the Christmas episode 'Ghosts of Christmas Past' – it left me incredibly dissatisfied, even disappointed in a jaw-dropping-what-was-that kind of way. But hey, that's what fanfic is for, right?

--

9/19

**Day 47**

Harm's Apartment  
Saturday  
0100 Local

Harm sat on his couch and stared at the floor. He couldn't believe what Jenny Lake had told him by the Wall. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. He'd been elated to meet someone who'd met his dad, spoken with him, right before he'd flown off the deck of a carrier for the last time.

His elation had faded somewhat, and now he didn't know what to make of it. What Jenny Lake had told him, it didn't sound like his father. Did it?

He didn't know. What did he know.

He wished Mac were here.

As soon as the thought registered, Harm was surprised at himself for having it. Why would he want Mac? _Here_, he added quickly. Why would he want Mac _here_. No. Wait. Actually, it made sense. Mac was his friend, after all. She'd been there when he'd gone to find his father, she'd been there for the search, and she'd been there when he'd finally found his dad's resting place.

Of course he would think of her. And they'd been talking once a week … she was his closest friend.

He could call her.

But did he really want to talk about this? To anyone? This was his father…

No. No, he didn't. He couldn't. He didn't know what to think.

But he had to call Mac in any case, to wish her a Merry Christmas. It'd be rude not to.

He picked up the phone and dialled the number from memory.

The phone rang four times before she picked up.

"H'lo?" She mumbled her greeting, voice thick with sleep.

How could she be sleeping? Harm glanced at his clock. It was just past 0700 in Germany. He felt a bit guilty – she rarely got a good sleep, and it sounded like he'd just interrupted one of the few times when she did.

He should tell her he'd call back, and hang up.

"Merry Christmas, Mac." He said with as much fake enthusiasm as he could muster.

"Harm?" Her voice was more alert, though still rough from sleep. He heard her straighten in her bed. "Are you alright?"

He closed his eyes. How could she tell …. No, no. He berated himself. She was probably just asking because he woke her up and she was disoriented and she was used to him calling her in the evenings.

"I'm fine." He tried to infuse some joviality in his reply. "Just wanted to be the first to wish you a Merry Christmas."

There was silence on her end.

"Oh," she finally spoke. "Merry Christmas, Harm." She yawned. He listened to the sound of her shifting in bed, stretching away the kinks from a night's sleep. He closed his eyes again, and took a deep breath. There were too many emotions to deal with right now.

"Did you go to the wall?" She asked, making conversation.

He composed himself before answering. "Yes."

Again, a silence on her end. He counted to 14 before she spoke.

"Harm." The tentativeness in her voice tugged at his heart. "What's wrong?"

He couldn't tell her. It would be betraying his dad's memory.

Wouldn't it?

But this was Mac. Mac. He could tell her, of all people. Who else would understand? Would she understand? What was there to understand?

"You ever heard of Jenny Lake?" He decided to just get it out. As it was, it was all he could think about. Granted he'd only met her that night, heard the story that night. But he knew he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it. As it was, his brain was running a mile a minute.

"The name sounds familiar."

"She was on the Bob Hope tour…" He jogged her memory. He was pretty sure he'd had the album playing once or twice when she'd come over, before he'd changed his designator.

"Oh, right," She replied, remembering. "You have her CD on your shelf."

"That's the one…" He took a deep breath, preparing himself to tell his story.

Just get it out.

"Well, I met her at the wall tonight."

"Really?" She exclaimed. "Wow. Did you get her autograph?"

He snorted. "Hardly. She was there to see my dad."

"What? Your dad knew Jenny Lake?" She sounded impressed and surprised.

"Very well, apparently." It came out with more sarcasm than he'd intended.

"I don't understand, Harm. You sound upset about it."

Upset. There was a word that was wholly inadequate.

"She met him on his last tour. Two days before he went MIA. Saw him fly off the deck of the carrier that last time."

"Wow. And she came to his wall all these years later?"

He struggled to make her see there was nothing impressive about this situation.

"She owes him her life apparently. Says he saved her. From herself."

"So it's a Rabb family trait, then, saving people from themselves."

She was trying to tease him out of his foul mood, he knew, but her comment only served to unsettle him. If he was like his dad, as everyone who'd ever known his father told him, then…

"What else, Harm?" She prodded, her voice held a tenderness he was familiar with. It often cropped up when he was talking to her about his father. "You can't be upset about that."

"Her fiancé was a pilot. Had gone down in the drink just a couple of weeks or so before she met my dad. She was a mess over his death."

"And she still went on the tour? Brave."

"That's one way to look at it." He paused, marshalled his words, and then tried to let them go.

"He … dad … he apparently befriended her. Offered her a shoulder to cry on."

"Another Rabb trait," She said softly, full of concern and solemnity.

"She said he kissed her, sitting on the fantail." He paused, remembering her story. "In the moonlight." He scoffed.

Silence.

He couldn't blame her. He didn't know what to say, either.

"She was thinking of killing herself, Mac." He repeated, still not knowing what to say.

"He saved her." Mac replied. Harm wasn't sure if she actually believed what she said, or was just trying to convince him.

"She was vulnerable, Mac, and he took advantage of that."

"Harm…"

"Do you think they, I mean …" Please, Mac, he thought. Fill in the blanks. I can't say it out loud.

"No." Her reply was emphatic. "If you are anything like your dad, Harm, he didn't. He wouldn't even have considered it."

Harm sighed. He didn't know anymore. This was … he didn't know anymore.

"Harm? Are you still there?"

He realized she'd been repeating his name for a while.

"Yeah. I'm here."

"Don't beat yourself up over this, Harm." Her gentle voice soothed him. Just a little.

"Mac. Did you spend the greater part of your life believing something, only to find …" He couldn't say it out loud.

"I did, Harm." She said quickly. "You remember when I went to see my dad? And my mom turned up?"

"Yeah," he said reluctantly, not sure where she was going with this.

"Well, I can relate. I spent all these years thinking that … thinking one thing about my parents, about my dad and …" She sighed, struggling through her own confession. He knew what this was costing her. He wanted to say it was different. For god's sake, all he'd believed in growing up, and all he still…

"Harm." He focussed on her voice, her tone firm, yet gentle. "Harm, what your dad did or didn't do, it doesn't change who you are."

He listened to her, tight-lipped, unconvinced.

"It doesn't make you any less than you are." She was adamant.

He sighed. He needed to think about this.

"I'm sorry I woke you." It was all he could say.

"What?" The shift in conversation must've thrown her.

"You were sleeping when I called."

"That's alright, Harm." She waved away his apology. "I was due to get up anyways."

They sat in silence. He wished she weren't so far away, that he could just drive to her apartment and find her there.

"I'll let you get back to it, then." He said.

"Harm…" She trailed off.

"Yeah?" He wanted her to say something, though he didn't know what that was.

"Call me if … if you want to talk. Anytime. I mean it, Harm."

That wasn't what he'd wanted her to say. He didn't think it was. He didn't know.

"I know you do."

"Take care, Harm." She sounded wistful and full of regret. He closed his eyes again, whether to savour her words or block out her goodbye, he couldn't tell.

"You too, Marine." He paused awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. And then settled to repeat his opening greeting, "Merry Christmas, Mac."

He hung up the phone, and leaned his head back on the couch.

This was shaping up to be a terrible Christmas.


	10. Day 53

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

--

10/19

**Day 53**

Mac's Quarters  
Germany  
Friday  
1900 Local

Mac waited not-so-patiently for Harm to pick up the phone.

"Rabb." He replied, after six rings.

Finally.

"Happy New Year!"

"Hey, Mac." He sounded a bit more like his old self. She'd been a bit worried about him since they'd talked about his trip to the Wall.

"It's only 1300 here." He pointed out, dampening her greeting. "And 1900 where you are."

"It's midnight in Dhaka." She replied. He could be such a killjoy sometimes. "And I wanted to make sure I caught you before you headed out to ring in the New Year in style."

"Oh. So … what're your plans for tonight." He asked.

She frowned. This was not the reply she expected; where was the wisecrack about her sense of timing? He obviously was still mulling over his Christmas Eve meeting at the Wall. She'd hoped he wasn't, and was now glad she had called early just to check on him.

"Jane – another attorney at the office – is throwing a New Year's party with her husband." She paused, and then decided to elaborate, hoping to draw Harm out. "We were discussing New Year plans at the Christmas party, and when she heard I had none, she invited me to her place for a bash she's throwing. I think half the office will be there."

"That's good."

He definitely sounded a bit down. He didn't tend to be in the best of moods at this time of year, and it just sounded worse than usual tonight. She really wished she were there in person so she could pull him out of his funk. Or at least try to.

"What're your plans?" She asked, persevering in her attempts to kick start a two-way conversation.

"I was just going to spend the night in."

"Harm." Now she was properly worried about him. "Come on, I'm sure you have at least a few floating offers for tonight. Take one up."

"Maybe I will." There was a blatant insincerity to his answer.

Mac sighed.

"Are you still thinking about what Jenny Lake told you? About your dad?"

His silence was answer enough. She waited, not sure what else to do, knowing how rarely he volunteered any kind of personal information when it came to his relationship with his father. Maybe she'd get lucky on the last day of the year.

"I've always felt closer to him in a plane, flying." He finally said. "It's something we have in common."

"It is." She replied. He was going to use a roundabout route to get to the deeper issue.

"Jenny Lake must've been quite the looker when she was younger."

She couldn't tell if he was being sincere, or sarcastic.

"Harm…"

"I guess I spent all this energy getting upset at my mom for getting remarried," He cut her off absently. "And I never considered the fact that my dad was…"

Human, Mac thought. Say it, Harm.

"He gave her his wings, you know." Harm more predictably said instead. "Before he left to fly for that last mission. She'd kept them all these years. We left them for him, by the Wall."

Mac smiled. That sounded like something Harm would do.

"He helped her, Harm. The only way he knew how."

"I guess." He didn't sound convinced. She wondered what bothered him more: that his father had betrayed his mother by comforting another woman, or that his father had shattered the image of honour and valour that Harm had grown up believing in.

"You'd do the same." She told him gently.

"I would not!" His reply was vehement.

"You would help someone who needed it, Harm, doing whatever you thought was best in the situation," She insisted. His efforts to see the world in black and white was sometimes what she admired most about him. It took a lot of faith to believe in that kind of goodness. When she wasn't worried about the sacrifices it cost him to do so. "And no one would hold it against you." She couldn't bring herself to believe Harm's dad had done more than exchange a kiss with the woman.

There was a long pause before he answered. "You really believe that?"

"I know it. Your dad loved you and your mom. It's time to let old ghosts rest, Harm." She waited a beat, hesitating, and then decided to finish her thought. "And I don't just mean your dad."

He was silent for a long time.

"I know." His reply was soft and heavy with resignation.

"No regrets. Right?"

"Right." He stated after another long pause, this time with a bit more conviction. "No regrets."

"You got a second chance at flying, too, Harm; one that many people only dream of. And you know the truth about your dad. And your mom is happy." She ticked off all he had to be thankful 

for, all he'd achieved in recent years. He had a lot of reasons to see this last year especially as a good one, she thought.

Another long silence stretched the distance separating them, before he spoke.

"Thanks, Mac." The way he said it, she knew she'd gotten through, if only a little.

She wished she wasn't so far away from him.

"Same goes, Harm." She swallowed her awkwardness at saying what she was about to say, and forced herself to open up a bit. "I, ah, got some closure too this year. With my … with my dad. And I owe you for that."

"Anything for you, Mac."

He said this so sincerely and yet so casually, that it caught Mac off guard.

"Alright, Sailor." She tried to place them back on familiar ground. "You can mope for another five minutes, and then you're going to go make plans for tonight."

He laughed, amused. "Is that an order?"

"Only if I have to make it one." She threatened in jest.

"So, it's already a new year in Dhaka, is it?" He changed the topic rather suddenly. She wondered if it was his way of evading making plans for tonight.

"It is. I called you at midnight, Bangladesh time." She said, although she wasn't really sure. Daylight savings really did make her think twice. And sometimes three times.

"Well then: Happy New Year, Mac."

She smiled, relieved to see his good humour reemerge.

"Happy New Year, Harm."

"You know," his tone was deceptively casual, she thought. "They say that whatever you do on New Year's Eve, you'll be doing for the rest of the year."

"So we're doomed to twelve more months of long distance phone calls?" She tried to lighten the moment, and immediately wondered if she was making a mistake. She could never tell when he was being serious, and when he was just being … Harm.

"I can think of worse things." The intensity in his words was unmistakable.

Mac didn't know what to make of where this conversation was going.

"Let's try and be on the same continent for the next New Year's Eve." She suggested tentatively, only half-kidding, only half-serious.

"How about we try for the same room." He said in reply.

She wished she could see his face, so she could tell what he was thinking.

"Same room. I'd like that." She hoped her voice sounded even when she said it. The turn in their phone call shocked the hell out of her. What did it mean?

A heavy silence fell between them, while her thoughts ran rampant.

"I, ah," She cleared her throat lightly. "I have to start getting ready for tonight."

"Oh. Right." He said, a little too quickly, and then added in a more normal tone of voice, "Have a good night, Mac."

"You have a wild one, Harm."

He laughed. "Bye."

"Bye." She replied, and hung up the receiver. She stood by the phone, going over their conversation for much longer than she should have – and much, much longer than she would ever admit to – before shaking herself out of it. She had a party to get ready for.


	11. Day 57

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

11/19

**Day 57**

JAG HQ  
Falls Church, VA  
Tuesday  
1333 Local

Harm tapped his fingers impatiently, waiting for Mac to pick up the phone. He was about to give up at the seventh ring, when she finally answered.

"MacKenzie." She sounded like she'd just been running.

"Hey. You sound out of breath. Everything okay?"

"Mm-hm. I just came in, heard the phone." She clipped out her sentences, still catching her breath. "Ran late at work."

"And how is work. Going well in this new year?"

"Sort of."

"What does that mean?" He frowned.

"I'm just incredibly swamped." He heard what sounded like her flopping down on her bed, and couldn't help but grin. She must be really tired to do such a thing.

"You remember Jane's New Year's Party?" She continued.

"Yeah." He eased back in his chair, settling in for a long chat.

"Well, something there gave half the office some kind of food poisoning. I'm the most senior officer on staff who's not hugging a toilet bowl."

"Well, who knew feeding your stomach all that crap could actually build immunity to food poisoning." He teased.

"Funny." She said with utmost insincerity. "I think it was the eggnog, which I didn't touch for obvious reasons. In any case, yesterday was a mess at work. Today was slightly better, mainly because I'd spent three hours last night after everyone had left, organizing for today."

"Sounds terrible." He commiserated.

"It is. I feel like I haven't had the time to breathe since we last spoke. But I have a very grateful CO, so I can't complain. Too much."

"Just don't show him your toenails. You'll lose all credibility once he sees fire engine red."

"I should never have mentioned that to you." She said, sounding as exasperated as he'd hoped she would. "Big mistake."

"Tell you what. I'll make you a deal." He was in a generous mood. "You tell me where your tattoo is, and I'll never again mention your toes."

"So," She began, and he knew she was going to summarily change the subject. "How's JAG been since the new year? How did you celebrate? And how is everyone?"

He laughed at her transparent predictability, and then proceeded to answer her questions.

"JAG's the same as it was last year. Keeter called me a few minutes after you and I talked. He was in town, so I spent the night with him."

"That's great." She interjected.

"I don't remember much after the second bar, third round of drinks." He added.

"I'm sure your liver thanks you." He could hear her roll her eyes. He grinned.

"And everyone is doing just fine. They all say hi, including Keeter."

"Hi right back." She sighed heavily, sounding more than a bit sorry for herself. "I miss home. Harriet sent pictures."

"You'll be back soon." He tried to offer some comfort. He hated hearing her sound so down. "Before you know it, the Admiral will be ordering you to go over budget reports, Harriet will be regaling you with stories about little AJ, Bud will be dropping food on his dress uniform, and Brumby will be hitting on you in the break room."

"Fingers crossed." She laughed. "Except for the last part. I'll skip that."

There was a comfortable silence on the line. He listened to the soft, rhythmic sound of her breathing.

"Thanks, Harm." She said after a few moments. "I needed to hear that. I'm a bit overworked and stressed right now, I guess. Don't worry, though." She ended with a light warning.

He smiled, picturing her sprawled on her bed, exhausted, arm flung over her eyes.

"Who says I'm worried." He decided that these conversations were the best part of his week.

She laughed again, that low chuckle he could feel echo in his chest.

They again settled into a quiet interspersed with the sound of her breathing. He smiled into the silence. He wished he could see her. That mischievous sparkle in her eye. The curl of her lip when she smiled … Harm straightened in his chair, suddenly alarmed by the turn of his thoughts. Where was this coming from? They were friends. She was a great friend. When had…

"Harm?"

"Uh, what?"

"You okay?" She asked, concerned.

"Uh, yeah. The line must've cut." He tried to cover. "These long distance connections can be a pain."

"That they can." She agreed. "Nothing beats talking face to face."

"Yeah," He replied, not really paying attention, still disconcerted by his thoughts about her. It had just snuck up on him. He'd hinted at … at something during their New Year's Eve chat, but he'd figured that maybe he'd just gotten caught in the moment, between his unexpected meeting at the wall and the loneliness that usually plagued him during the holidays. It was during the same time last year that he'd hooked up with Jordan. Maybe he had just gotten caught up … but if that were true, then what about now? The holiday season was over…

"I think I'll let you get back to work." He heard her say.

"What?" He asked, confused.

"You sound distracted. I don't want to keep you from gainful employment." She paused to yawn. "And I need to call it an early night. Give Jingo a big hug from me."

"Oh. Okay." He was too disconcerted to bother with coherence.

"Night, Harm."

"Night, Mac." He repeated automatically.

The line disconnected with a loud click, and he slowly lowered the phone onto its cradle. This was … unexpected.

He stared at the one bare spot on his desk, deep in thought.

Now what?

No. Wait. Now nothing. He shook his head, maybe in the hopes of dismissing this odd turn of his mind. He was just missing her, as friends miss friends. And he was probably a bit lonely. It had been a while since Jordan. And with the holiday season, and the Wall ... He was just being an idiot. This is Mac he was talking about. Mac. He was being an idiot.

He shook his head again, and returned to work. Stop being an idiot, Hammer.


	12. Day 64

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

--

12/19

**Day 64**

Mac's Quarters  
Germany  
Tuesday  
1908 Local

As soon as Harm picked up the phone, Mac let loose the one complaint she'd been silently nursing for the past four days.

"I had no idea I could get sick of meat." She proclaimed a bit too dramatically.

"What?" He replied immediately, and loudly. "Come again? Hello? Is that you, Mac? I think there's static cutting the line … I thought you said you were sick of meat. That can't be right. It has to be a bad connection."

She ignored him and his stupid shtick. She was being serious, and he was joking around.

"It's all the bratwurst." She complained. "I'm sick of it."

"Need a break from eating dead animal?" He was laying it on thick.

"I didn't say that!" She protested. "Not all dead animal, just—"

"How about I whip you up Rabb's Famous Meatless Meatloaf when you get back?" He interrupted. "Get that horrible dead animal out of your system."

"Jumping from the frying pan into the fire." She rolled her eyes. What was she thinking looking for sympathy from him, of all people. "No thanks. I'll pass."

"I'm wounded. Besides, Rabb's Famous Meatless Meatloaf is baked."

"Half-baked is what it is." She shot back.

"Mac." He warned, sounding genuinely insulted. She grinned: teasing him was such fun.

They sat in a warm silence. In their previous conversations, she took it as a sign to wrap things up. This time, though, she didn't want the conversation to end. She tried to think of something to say.

"So." She began. "What's new with you?"

"I was cast in a Navy recruitment commercial." He didn't sound too pleased about it.

She laughed. Was she ever going to tease him about this.

"What's so funny?" He asked, sounding even more offended than he had about his ridiculous fake meatloaf.

"You're just perfect for that!" She exclaimed, "Did you volunteer?"

"No!" He defended loudly, and then added in a more subdued tone, "The admiral made me."

She laughed even harder.

"So," She ragged him. "How was the brush with stardom?"

"Terrible." He replied without any hint of amusement. "The director was awful. If I never see her again, it'll be too soon."

She just kept laughing.

"It's not that funny, Mac. I can't think of a worse way to spend my day."

"Sure you can. Try harder." She encouraged. "Let me help … umm … A pig roast with the SecNav."

He laughed.

"Or how about playing bridge with Brumby." She suggested, barely able to get the words out. The mental image that conjured was just too hilarious.

He laughed harder. "Alright, alright." He relented. "I take it back."

"Hey," She continued, not wanting the conversation to fall into another silence. "Now that you've had your brush with the glitter and glam of stardom, answer a question for me."

"I'll try." He said graciously, while he still tried to tame his laughter.

"Did you gain any insight on how bands pick which members of the audience they'll select to go on stage?"

"What?" was his confused reply.

"Well," She began, speaking slowly for his benefit. "When you go to a concert and the band leaders grabs a girl and drags her onstage, how does he pick the girl? And, come to think of it, female rock stars or bands don't do it – they don't pick guys. Why is that? You play the guitar. I bet you've thought about it."

He only laughed, and she waited.

After a pause, he seemed to realize she was serious.

"Oh, you really want an answer?" He asked, confused and amused.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have your own fan club forming as soon as the ad airs. You could use it as a launch pad to rock stardom. You already play the guitar" She was having way too much fun bugging him. "So? If you were a rock star, would you pick the hottest girl in the crowd or a not-so pretty one?"

"C'mon, Mac. I don't know." She thought he sounded embarrassed, though he hadn't stopped laughing. It confirmed her suspicion that his guitar had fueled a few day dreams at least. She waited for him to answer– silence as a tactic had worked the last time.

"Alright, fine. Honest answer?" He finally gave in. Score one for MacKenzie. This was going to be entertaining.

"Of course."

"Ten years ago, I would've picked the hottest."

She grinned. She would've guessed as much.

"And now?"

"I would pick whoever was screaming loudest."

She laughed – she would give him points for being smooth. "Nice answer. Very mature."

"Thank you." There was no modesty in his reply. "What about you? Who would you pick?"

She answered without hesitating.

"Hottest guy."

It was his turn to laugh. "And I tried to give a safe answer."

"That was your first mistake, Sailor." She scolded playfully. "You should go with honesty over safety any day."

His tone turned serious. "I'll have to remember that."

She tried to lighten the sudden somberness she could feel over the line, still unsure of how innocent his remarks were intended to be; he hadn't alluded to anything in their last conversation…"So what would your honest answer be? Hottest fan or most vocal fan?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"Whichever one you were." He answered. She could hear him flash his 1000-watt smile at her.

She laughed, and feigned affront. "What? I can't be both?"

He joined in her laughter, but she could detect the seriousness in his tone. "Well, you'd definitely be the first. It's the most vocal I'm not sure about."

She stopped laughing and considered his words. He was thousands of miles away. She figured a little harmless flirting couldn't hurt. Besides, she knew he wasn't being serious, just throwing out comments he would never follow up on. Or was he. Their past few conversations had really muddied the waters. But wasn't that just the holiday blues speaking … Oh, just go for it, MacKenzie.

"If you were a rock star, Harm, I'd definitely be a fan." She waited for his reply, just a bit nervous that she'd said too much.

There was only a brief silence on the line, before he sighed dramatically. "Now you tell me, when it's too late to consider a career change."

"You mean another one." She teased, wondering if she'd overstepped the line. Not that she knew where exactly that line was anymore.

He laughed. "Alright, enough of that." He warned, sounding both amused and embarrassed.

"Goodnight, Harm." She joined in his laughter, and decided to dismiss her worries. She would enjoy this side of Harm. Maybe see what the New Year could bring, although she couldn't help the hope that sprung in her heart: it felt so promising.

"Night, Mac. Sweet dreams."


	13. Day 72

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

--

13/19

**Day 72**

JAG HQ  
Falls Church, VA  
Wednesday  
1358 Local

"MacKenzie." She picked up after two rings.

"Hey." Harm smiled at the sound of her voice, though he felt a bit nervous. He didn't know why he felt anxious. Well, he hadn't called her yesterday. It wasn't because of a guilty conscience. He'd just been … busy. With other things. Like work, and—

"Hey, Harm." She sounded to be in a good mood. "A day late and a dollar short."

"What?" He frowned, and forced himself to focus on their conversation rather than picking apart his reasons for avoiding calling her yesterday.

"You normally call on Tuesday afternoons, your time." She explained. "I was actually about to call you to make sure everything was alright."

"Oh." He paused, feeling distinctly uncomfortable and not quite knowing how to explain himself. "Well, you remember that commercial I was roped into filming?"

It sounded like a sinner's confession to him. What the hell was wrong with him. He didn't have to answer to her…

"The Navy recruitment ad?" She asked, "Of course I remember."

"Well, Renee tracked me down." That sounded casual and unassuming to his ears. "I had to do some sound dubbing. Or whatever it's called."

"Renee?" She asked, her confusion obvious as she tried to place the name.

He shouldn't have used her first name. But he never could keep anything from Mac, let alone lie to her. He should've kept his mouth shut.

He felt guilty. Though why should he. He could have dinner and whatever with whomever he wanted. He'd had a decent time with her. Although he could admit the evening had left a rather hollow aftertaste. And all he could think of when they parted ways was an image of the SecNav roasting a pig on a spit.

"The director." He clarified. "For the ad." And he even sounded guilty. He was being an idiot. It wasn't like he'd done anything wrong ... If he were being honest, though, the way he'd been feeling about the woman on the other end of the line was increasingly distracting. Renee was supposed to be the distraction, not the other way around. He wished he could just see Mac. It would probably resolve whatever it was he felt for her. Whatever it was.

"Right." Mac's response was reserved. He thought she maybe even sounded a bit disheartened.

An awkward silence held his tongue. Who was he kidding. He knew what he felt for her. It was just so … unexpected. Surprising. Disconcerting.

He struggled to find something to talk about, before they both drowned under the weight of an uneasy silence.

"We, ah, have Brumby's send off tonight." Smooth, Hammer, he thought sardonically. Bringing up Brumby would definitely help decrease the awkward quotient.

"Yeah. Harriet told me about it in today's email." She sounded aloof at best, about this new topic.

"And Mic called." She added, almost as an afterthought. "Said he got my number from Tiner. It was weird talking to him after all this time."

"He called, huh." Harm didn't bother registering anything beyond that fact. His gut burned at hearing it.

"Hm." She answered; there was something in her he couldn't quite put his finger on ... disappointment? She'd been in a good mood until he'd mentioned his dinner.

"Since I won't be seeing him again. He wanted to say goodbye." She continued, bringing his attention back to the call.

"Nice of him." Harm tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Brumby was an alright guy. As long as he was far away from Mac, and she was never seeing him again. She could do so much better.

"Be nice." She warned. Her tone held no amusement. He knew which expression she was wearing, even though he couldn't see it.

"I am nice." He defended, a bit too quickly.

He heard her sigh.

"It's been a long day for me, Harm. Give Jingo a big hug."

"Okay." He didn't know what else to say. She did sound tired, he reasoned.

"Bye." Her clipped reply came just before the line went dead.

He stared at the receiver, and the seconds ticked by.

Damn it, Hammer. Do it right.

He redialled her number and rallied his confidence while he waited for her to pick up the phone.

"Mackenzie." She sounded curious and tired and annoyed.

"Mac, it's me."

"Harm." She greeted evenly. "Everything alright?"

"With me, yes. How about you?"

"What do you mean?" He could hear the frown in her voice. "Everything's fine on my end."

"I don't think we should hang up upset with each other."

"Harm." She sighed tiredly. "I'm not upset."

"You sound upset." He persisted.

"Harm, it's been a long day." He recognized a dismissal when he heard one.

"I had dinner with her, Mac. It was just dinner." He never thought he'd find himself explaining his actions to Mac like this. Or even wanting to. Life just threw the oddest curveballs.

"You don't need to—"

"I think I do, Mac. I mean, I …" He didn't quite know how to put this. "It was just a dinner. And all I could think of during dinner was the SecNav roasting a pig on a spit."

She laughed, much to his relief.

"That bad, huh?" She was amused.

He grinned, pleased with himself. Good work, Hammer.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he added, "Let's just say it was nowhere near as good as these phone calls of ours."

He wished he could see the look on her face.

"Okay?" He asked, half holding his breath, when he thought she'd been silent for far too long.

"Okay." She repeated slowly. Her smile carried through the phone line. "Goodnight, Harm."

"Sweet dreams, Marine."

He hung up, feeling a lightness he hadn't anticipated. His grin widened. So this is what it felt like.


	14. Day 75

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

A/N: Reading the reviews/comments, brings to point two things. First, it's great to know you guys are enjoying the H&M banter/friendship/soft hints/confused longing. It's something I really liked about the earlier seasons, back when I naively thought the writers would do things 'right'. Second, I figure I should mention that you need not worry: you'll get nice solid, long chunks of H&M upon Mac's return (you'll notice these phone call sections are shorter than what I usually write as a chapter). But the story has to build up to that point. It'll be worth it, I hope. I wouldn't deprive you guys of shippery wonderfulness after all this anticipation. I'm not as mean as certain folks who had us on the hooks for nine years. Just saying.

--

14/19

**Day 75**

Harm's Apartment  
Saturday  
1345 Local

Harm opened the door to his apartment, letting Jingo enter ahead of him. He watched in amusement as Jingo made a beeline for his food bowl. Regular as clockwork, Harm thought. He wondered what Mac would do to him if he told her how much Jingo's behaviour mirrored hers at times. Kill him, most likely, and give his bones to Jingo. Harm grinned at the thought.

He glanced at his phone.

He could call her. Something – he searched for a word … significant … seminal – had happened during their last phone call, he thought. He could call her. Just touch base. It wasn't as though he was obligated to only call her on Tuesdays. Right? He'd called her on weekends before, hadn't he?

He didn't realize that he'd been talking out loud until he saw Jingo watching him with the same expression of tolerant curiosity the dog had been levelling at him all week. He wondered how far Mac and Jingo's similarities really went.

"What do you say, boy?" He asked. "Want to give Mac a call?"

Jingo gave a short bark, and then turned his attention to his water bowl.

"Good boy." Harm picked up his phone, sat on the couch and dialled her number.

While he waited for Mac to pick up, he watched as Jingo made his way to the couch, nudged Harm's leg with his nose, and settled down by his feet.

"That's a good boy." Harm said indulgently. He leaned down and ran his hand along Jingo's thick fur, making sure to scratch him behind his ears. Walk, eat, sleep. The dog had it made.

"MacKenzie."

"Hey." He grinned.

"Harm! This is a pleasant surprise." She paused, and then sounding more worried added, "Or is it: How's Jingo?"

Harm raised an eyebrow in wry amusement as he eyed Jingo, who was happily lazing at his feet.

"He's doing just great, Mac. He misses you." He added the last part for her sake. He thought Jingo wouldn't miss much of anything as long he was supplied with dog food and walks.

"Does he now?" She sounded like she was stuck between wanting to believe him and knowing he was teasing her.

"Yeah. I think so." He kept his tone serious and – hopefully – sincere. "He keeps staring at the door, sniffing around the apartment. We went for a walk and the poor mutt started chasing a woman with brown hair. Must've mistaken her for you. His sense of smell really is terrible. I think he may be half blind."

"Harm!" She exclaimed, appalled.

"What?" He was startled by her response. He was trying to make her feel better.

"Is Jingo in the room?" She asked in a fierce whisper.

"Yeah. Right beside me." He told her, not quite understanding her behaviour, but finding it incredibly amusing nonetheless. Maybe if she heard from Jingo.

"Hey there, buddy." Harm called to the dog, tapping his hand against the side of the couch. "Say hello to Mac. C'mon … C'mere. Here, boy," Harm coaxed. Jingo stared at him, unmoving. That dog was something else. He turned his attention back to Mac. "See? He's too sad to even bark. I swear, neither of you ever listen to me."

"Harm," She scolded. "You can't talk about blindness and his sense of smell like that in front of him. You'll hurt his feelings."

She'd ignored the last part of his statement. Apparently, Harm thought, Jingo's feelings ranked higher than setting him straight. This could prove to be a handy bit of information for future use.

"He doesn't speak English, Mac." Harm pointed out what he thought was pretty self-evident.

"He understands, though." He thought her tone was just this side of reprimanding. She added, "Dogs are perceptive."

Harm couldn't resist.

"What?" He defended. "I'm not saying we'll put him to sleep because—"

"HARM!" She cried, alarmed.

"Alright, alright." He laughed. "Sorry, Mac."

"Don't apologize to me." She informed him. "Apologize to Jingo."

"What?" She was pulling his leg. She wanted him to apologize to the dog? "No."

"Harm." She insisted.

"No." He could be as stubborn as her.

"Harm." She cajoled. "Think of poor Jingo."

Harm eyed Jingo, who was eyeing him right back, and sighed.

"Sorry, Jingo." He said reluctantly, not sure whose benefit he was doing this for, Mac's or Jingo's.

"Good boy." She broke into laughter.

"Not funny, Mac." He shook his head in exasperation, glad that she couldn't see him grinning.

There was a comfortable silence on the line. He thought he could hear the sound of her rummaging through her drawers.

"What're you up to?" He inquired.

"I'm going out with Leslie tonight."

"Oh, right. The Colonel you work with."

"That's the one. He should be here in ten minutes, and I'm running really late." She sounded like she was busy doing something else, her full focus not on their conversation. "Thought I'd take an evening run and got carried away. I just came out of the shower. I hate being late."

He? Harm was sure he'd misheard.

"He?" Wait. Did she say she just came out of the shower?

"What?" She replied absently.

"I thought Leslie was her first name." He said. She did say she'd just come out of the shower ... that meant...

"Leslie is _his_ first name." She answered in that tone she used whenever he put his foot in his mouth. "Like … Leslie Nielson."

Harm focused on the more important issue. He tried to sound casual. "So, he's been showing you around?"

"He's my ticket away from bratwurst." She replied. He knew from the sound of her voice that she was only half-listening to him. He could hear the sounds of her getting ready in the background.

He tried to laugh at her joke. He didn't quite succeed, his brain busy wrestling between the idea of Mac going out with some guy tonight, and the image of Mac changing while talking with him on the phone.

She was in a good mood, though. That was also evident in her voice. He hadn't expected to hear that the one co-worker she was spending the most time with during her TAD was male. What was it with her and male partners.

"So where're you guys going?" He wasn't going to assume anything.

"He mentioned this relatively upscale burger joint that's nearby." She answered, oblivious to his worry – he was not jealous – and still only giving him half her attention. What was she doing taking so long to get ready for this guy?

"I've been craving a good beef burger." Mac informed him. "I think I'm at the point where I'd give up a kidney for a beef patty in a bun." He heard the clinking of toiletries in the background. Was she getting all dressed up?

"What're you wearing?" He hadn't exactly meant to ask that out loud.

He heard her grunt, followed by a loud noise. Then some muffled scuffling.

"Um, Mac?" He braced himself for a thorough chewing out.

"Harm?" She called into the phone, "You still there?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Sorry about that." She sounded genuinely apologetic, and just a bit frazzled. "Drawer got stuck. I swear, they need to invest in their VOQs, here. What were you saying?"

Had she really not heard his question? He had a hard time believing his good fortune. Thank god for budget cutbacks and lady luck and the fact that being late stressed Mac out.

"Hey, Jingo. Don't eat that." He quickly said, addressing Jingo who hadn't moved from his spot by Harm's feet, and was staring at the coffee table legs. Harm hoped it would distract Mac from her question.

"What's Jingo doing?" She asked, successfully sidetracked. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine, Mac." Harm reassured her. "He was just … chewing on my shoe."

"That's why I tuck all of mine safely away in my closet. Though he doesn't do it often."

"Duly noted." He was relieved that he had averted a potential blow-up. But he was still a bit irritated. Didn't their phone calls mean anything to her?

He sat, listening to the sound of her rummaging around her room and dressing up. She was apparently too distracted doing whatever she was doing – getting ready for dinner with a guy – to speak with him.

Okay, so he was a lot irritated. And disappointed. Hadn't their last conversation meant anything to her?

"So, um, have a good time." Just not too good a time.

"I will." She answered absently.

"Okay, then. Bye." He tried not to sound too dejected.

"Bye, Harm." She paused, and then added in a softer tone. "It was great talking to you. Sorry I have to cut it short."

Right, Harm thought as he disconnected the line.

Leslie. Harm sighed, and looked at Jingo. Jingo stared back, looking like he was commiserating.

"Thanks, boy." Harm told Jingo. Just then, his phone rang.

"Rabb." He answered.

"Hey, Harm."

"Mac!" His initial surprise at hearing from her was chased by worry. "Is everything okay?"

"With me yes." She replied. "How about you?"

"What do you mean? I'm fine." He frowned in confusion.

"I don't think we should hang up upset with each other." She repeated his words back to him, from four days ago.

He grinned as he recognized her words.

"I'm not upset. It's just dinner. Right, Mac? I know you hate running late for stuff." He winked at Jingo.

Her responding laughter skittered across the line.

"Exactly. Just dinner. It'll be nowhere near as good as these phone calls of ours."

A weight lifted from around his heart. He ranked higher than a burger. This was good.

"Enjoy your burger, Mac."

"You bet I will! Night, Harm." The exuberance in her reply actually had him feeling something close to happiness. Her excitement must be contagious, he surmised, even if he did find burgers unappealing. And Leslies even more so.

"Bye, Mac."

He disconnected the line and threw the cordless phone on the couch. He flashed Jingo a grin.

"And you were worried," He told the dog. "Have a little faith, buddy."


	15. Day 77

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

--

15/19

**Day 76**

JAG HQ  
Falls Church, VA  
Monday  
9011 Local

Harm made it into his office just in time to pick up the phone on its third ring.

"Rabb." He took a seat behind his desk.

"Hey, Harm."

"Mac." He couldn't keep his smile out of his voice. It wasn't Tuesday afternoon – in fact it was a Monday morning – and she was calling him.

He leaned back in his chair, settling in for talking with her. He heard some odd noises in the background, not the usual silence of her room or office bustle. Was she outside?

"Where are you calling from?"

"Payphone in a little cobbled square." She sounded so … carefree.

"Payphone! Mac this'll cost you a fortune!" He couldn't help himself. "And you'll freeze," He added.

"Don't worry." She easily dismissed his worry. "Calling card with a local number. We have 3 minutes and 58 seconds. And it's not that cold out. Well, compared to DC." She amended.

Oh. He felt oddly embarrassed by his outburst.

"Besides" she continued, "So what if it costs me a fortune to call. I just had to share this little square I found with someone. There's this gorgeous fountain right in the centre, it's lined with iron-wrought benches and those old-fashioned street lamps."

He really really wished he was there. "You should take a picture."

"Hmm." She replied absently, and he figured she was more focussed on what she was seeing than what he was saying.

"Do you have a camera?" He tried to kick start a more coherent response.

"Nope. You know I've never owned a camera." It struck him as a sad response, even though her tone was purely practical. Then again, he didn't own a camera either. All the photos he had were taken by someone else. He wondered what it meant that neither of them thought to capture their lives in 5"x7" frames.

"You still there, Harm?"

"Yeah," he shook off his melancholy and focussed on the sound of her voice. "Tell me about this square of yours."

"It's so beautiful out today. Cloudy, but still. I thought I'd take advantage of my day off and explore. So I've been wandering through the city. It's gorgeous, Harm. I fell upon this adorable square. It's in a tree-lined residential area. There are people just sitting on benches, walking about. They seem to know each other. They must all live around here." She sounded pensive. He could feel her drift away from him and into her own thoughts.

"What are you looking at?" He tried to bring her back to him.

"There's this old couple just sitting together on a bench, greeting everyone who passes by. They look happy."

Her wistful tone carried across the miles and nudged its way into his heart. He wished he were with her.

"There's this church right across the street. Tiny by most standards, I guess, but beautiful. It looks quite old."

"It does?"

"Yeah." She paused, and he listened to the sound of her breathing, of slight traffic on the streets and laughter floating on the wind. She spoke again, after moments of silence, her voice distant and introspective. "You know, as a teenager, I never had much reason to believe in God."

The sudden shift in topic caught him off guard. He kept his silence, hoping she would continue. When was the last time she had offered him one of those parts of her she kept hidden from the world? He hadn't realized it, but he treasured them all, guarded them fiercely, protected them, collected them as a part of himself.

"But then," she continued, her tone subdued, thoughtful, "I didn't believe in much back then. I don't think I had the strength required by faith."

He noted her use of the past tense, and wanted to ask her what had changed. What had made her believe again. But he was afraid to ask, knew the answer probably wouldn't be what he selfishly hoped for, wondered if she would even answer. Two hidden parts of her in one day was a lot to ask for. He hesitated, before giving in. To hell with it. He'd ask her. At worst, she wouldn't answer.

Her voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"Time's up. I'll talk to you later, Harm."

He straightened in his chair; it couldn't already have been four minutes. How much of their time had he – had they – spent in silence, minutes passing them by.

"What? Already?" He rolled his eyes at his words, what an inane thing to say.

She laughed lightly, and he smiled even though she couldn't see it.

"Thanks for the tour, Mac."

"Take care, Flyboy."

"Mac…" He wanted to say so much. "I'll call you later," he rushed, choosing the easy way out. But the line cut before he got the words out. He hung up the phone and slowly turned in his chair to stare out the window, thinking of Mac standing by herself in a square, at a payphone, talking to him.

He didn't think he'd ever felt closer to her, yet farther away.


	16. Day 78

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

A/N: Okay. So this part is short. But the final ones are nice and long, I promise: they actually comprise more than a third of the story, length-wise (!). It was unintentional.

--

16/19

**Day 78**

JAG HQ  
Falls Church, VA  
Wednesday  
0934 Local

"Rabb." He answered the phone, as he flipped through a file on his desk.

"Harm!"

"Mac." He smiled. "You're in a good mood." He couldn't help but note her exuberance.

"I just got my orders back to JAG. I'm flying civilian. Morning flight out tomorrow, 0900 my time. I land in DC at 1730 your time."

"That's great, Mac!" He straightened in his chair at the news, grinning widely.

"Tell me about it. And I'm only due to report at JAG on Monday." She added that last with what he could only describe as glee.

"You'll need the time off to get over the jet lag. Or does that clock of yours calibrate automatically."

"The clock adjusts just fine. It's the rest of me that has to play catch up with jet lag."

He laughed. The idea of Mac lagging behind anything struck him as absurd. It was a position he knew she did everything possible to avoid.

"Send me your flight info, and I'll meet you at the airport."

"It'll be a tight squeeze for you Harm, with traffic—"

"Mac." He stated with exaggerated patience. They were way beyond the point of formalities, they both knew that.

"Alright, alright." She relented, laughing. "I graciously accept."

"Good." For once she was listening to him. He wondered if spending all that time getting Jingo to obey his orders – okay, half his orders on condition of plentiful dog biscuits – had something to do with it. "Forward me the flight details."

"Will do."

"Have a safe trip home, Marine."

"See you tomorrow, Harm!"

Harm glanced at his clock as he hung up. Tomorrow evening! He grinned. Tomorrow evening. His smile faded into worry. He'd be seeing her after 77 days of not seeing her … And one or two phone calls a week. It struck him that he was as excited as he was nervous.


	17. Day 79

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

--

17/19

**Day 79**

Dulles International Airport  
Thursday  
1831 Local

Harm watched the crowd emerging from the gate, looking for Mac. Thankfully, her flight had been slightly delayed, and she hadn't come out yet. He really had tried to be on time, not wanting Mac to wait for him after fourteen hours of travel. But despite his best efforts, traffic and a last minute break on a case conspired to make him run a bit late.

However, what Mac didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Besides, he'd brought Jingo to the airport with him. Mac was going to love that.

He felt that familiar sense of awareness, and looked up to spot Mac emerging through the gate. She was dressed in civvies, pulling one suitcase behind her and carrying a large duffle bag over her shoulder. Her eyes looked tired, but her entire face brightened when she saw him. She changed course to make her way to where he was standing.

He couldn't control his grin as he walked over towards her.

"Mac." He said when he came to a stop in front of her.

"Harm." Her smile mirrored his.

He didn't want this moment to get awkward, but he couldn't bring himself to stop staring at her, a huge grin plastered on his face. The harsh neon lights in the airport glared above them, noisy reunions and hyperactive kids surrounded them, and she smelled like plane – the bad kind of plane, a mix of synthetic seat fabric and ersatz coffee. And he couldn't think of anyplace else he'd rather be, anyone else he'd rather see.

It occurred to him that he should have hugged her in greeting. Was it too late to hug her now? This was getting awkward. He glanced at the bag she was carrying, it looked heavy.

"Here," He took a step forward, leaning around her to grab the duffel bag with his hand.

"Oh, thank you," she sounded a bit flustered. He turned his head to look at her as he gripped the bag's handle, to see what caused her stuttered response. His face, he realized, was only inches from hers. He could feel her breath on his neck. She was standing very still, as though unsure what to do.

He was so close to her … he caught the faint smell of her, underneath that of travel and exhaustion.

She smelled like sunshine and clear blue skies. It was such a familiar scent…

He couldn't help himself. As he pulled back, he rested his free hand on her shoulder, angled his face, and kissed her on the corner of her mouth.

She started slightly at the contact, and he felt her breath exhale against his cheek. He forgot about the glaring lights and screeching kids and noisy reunions.

It seemed to him they were ensconced in a thick bubble, hanging in a suspended state, each movement, each breath, slow and measured. She turned her face towards him, her eyes flicked up to his. He could not describe what he saw there, this thing that was drawing him to her. He knew what she would taste like on his lips, knew what she would feel like against his skin, was anticipating experiencing it so keenly it beat like a second heart in his chest.

Harm jerked forward suddenly as a passerby bumped into him from behind. Mac's duffle bag slipped from his hand and dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. He tightened his hold on her shoulder to keep from falling on her, and felt her hands grasp his upper arms to steady him.

"Um..." He stuttered, at a loss.

"Are you okay?" She fumbled, removing her hands from his arms.

The most near-perfect moment he'd ever experienced, shattered by some unthinking ass who couldn't walk in a straight line ... Harm took a deep calming breath. And with it the full weight of what he had been about to do hit him. The intensity of his intent caught him off guard. Shouldn't they talk first? They should talk first. She seemed as uncertain around him as he felt around her. He clumsily took a step away from Mac, and tried his best not to stutter an apology or shuffle his feet. The urge was overwhelming. Instead, he offered her a tentative grin.

She smiled, biting her lower lip slightly, and then looked away. He couldn't be sure, but he thought she might be blushing.

He noticed his hand was still on her shoulder. He dropped it a bit too abruptly. So much for being smooth. He cleared his throat, not knowing what to do with himself. Thankfully, he spotted Mac's duffle lying on the floor, by his feet. He quickly picked it up, hoping some movement would keep awkwardness from setting up camp, and slung it over his shoulder again.

But he couldn't stop staring at her, and she was looking anywhere but at him. He was pretty sure she was blushing.

"It's good to see you, Mac." He said sincerely, his eyes roaming her face.

She looked up at him, and her smile broke free.

"You too, Harm." Her eyes sparkled with something unidentifiable. It was … appealing.

They stood facing each other, simply grinning, while the organized chaos of people coming and going navigated around them.

It occurred to him that she must be exhausted, not to mention starving, and he was making her stand outside the arrivals gate.

"You must be tired, and hungry." He raised an eyebrow in inquiry, still unable to keep from smiling at her.

She nodded, and he watched in amusement as she suppressed a yawn.

"Then let's go." He turned slightly and offered to take her rolling suitcase for her.

"I got it, Harm. Thanks." She waved away his offer.

He grinned at her predictability – it was so good to have her back – and then led her towards the car park. His one hand held the strap of her duffle bag in place on his shoulder, and the other guided her through pedestrian traffic.

"How was the flight?" He asked, making conversation. They'd talked on the phone for weeks, and their first face to face encounter was being plagued by awkwardness and stilted chitchat. Harm couldn't help but note the irony.

"Long and boring, but relatively smooth." She answered. "After so many years partnered with you though, any flight that doesn't crash or require an emergency landing is a good one."

Harm rolled his eyes. The one and only time he didn't check the fuel line properly...

"Well, I've obviously failed in imparting the finer points of aeronautics to you." He said with mock chagrin, glancing down at her.

"Obviously." She teased. "How was your day?"

"Good." He shrugged. It had been a great day, actually, mainly due to anticipation; and a terrible day, also mainly due to all the anticipation.

They fell into another silence, and he took the opportunity to steal quick glances at her. She looked good. No, actually, she looked great. He'd missed just seeing her.

It was amazing, he thought as they made their way through the terminal, how good he and Mac were at pretending everything was normal, and at ignoring the attraction between them, at ignoring their one real kiss and all the almost kisses throughout the time they'd known each other. He didn't think he'd noticed before. Or maybe he'd ignored that, too.

"Someone's looking forward to seeing you again," He told her, as they walked through the sliding doors and into the parking lot. He pointed towards his SUV.

"Really? Here? Who…" Recognition dawned. She positively lit up. "You brought Jingo!" She squealed in excitement. It wasn't something he was accustomed to hearing from her.

Score one for Rabb.

He laughed. "You had him for what, three weeks before you left? He's lived with me for way longer."

Her only response was to smack his arm, really hard.

"We had an instant connection, Harm." She informed him. The last time he'd seen her this excited and happy was when she'd driven into JAG for the first time in her new corvette.

Harm noticed that she lost interest in him when she spotted Jingo through the car window. He unlocked the car doors with the remote just as she reached for the handle.

She threw the door open, and Jingo jumped out towards her. Mac crouched down in front of the dog, and laughed as Jingo licked her face in greeting.

"Jingo! Hey there, boy! How's my baby?" She abandoned her suitcase in favour of reacquainting herself with her dog. Harm watched the reunion for a moment, a smile on his face. Mac calling an old dog 'baby'. It was just plain funny. And Jingo, apparently, had a great memory. Or maybe Mac had just made an impression on him. Harm could understand that. He shook his head at his thoughts, and proceeded to stow away her luggage in the trunk.

"All set to hit the road, Mac?" He asked her as he shut the trunk door.

"We're set, aren't we boy?" She was still addressing Jingo. Harm rolled his eyes good-humouredly.

"Let's go." He held open the passenger door for her, thinking it might be the only way to get her away from smothering Jingo and into the car.

She sat in the passenger seat, and gave him a warm, contented grin as he shut the door. She was glowing, he thought.

He whistled as he made his way to the driver's side.

It was great to just see her again.

--

Forty-eight minutes later – traffic was pretty bad – they finally reached Georgetown. Not that he was complaining. Mac had given him a thorough dissertation on her 77 days away. Not that he had been counting the days. He would admit that he'd never appreciated traffic quite as much before.

"Harm," Mac suddenly stopped mid-sentence and glanced at him, brow furrowed. "You just missed the turn for my apartment. You were supposed to take a left back there, not a right."

"Wait for it, Marine." He winked at her. "We're making a quick stop first."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, and then shrugged. She turned around in her seat to look at Jingo.

"So, Jingo, did Harm treat you alright?" She turned to Harm. "How is he, really? Louise said that as an older dog, I'd need to take more care."

"Don't worry, Mac." She was such a worrier – this was the fourth time she'd asked him the same question. Although this really was an endearing new side of Mac. "It's a good thing you did, taking Jingo in."

She smiled warmly at the dog in the backseat, and reached out a hand to rub his fur. "He's a sweetheart."

"If you say so." Harm eyed Jingo through the rear-view mirror. "All he does is walk, eat and sleep."

"And he's a good friend." She added, then turned to Jingo. "Aren't you boy?"

Harm glanced at her in amazement. She really was smitten.

"Alright, Dog Whisperer. Here we are." He informed her as he pulled into the parking lot of her favourite restaurant in DC.

Mac turned in her seat and looked out the window. For the second time since she landed, her face positively lit up.

"Beltway Burgers!" She grabbed his arm in excitement. "I don't deserve you!"

He laughed, trying to distract himself from the warm elation caused by her words. "Do you want to go to drive-thru, or order at the counter?"

He had meant it as a joke to tease her, but to his surprise she actually gave his question serious consideration.

"Drive-thru." She finally said – he counted 13 seconds of deliberation. "I think the jet lag is catching up to me. It's 0148 where I was." She turned to look at him, and caught him staring. "What?"

He shook his head. He didn't think he'd ever understand her love for processed meat and grease. "Let's get you some food."

"Thank you, Harm." She was watching him with that same appealing sparkle in her eyes. It terrified him and thrilled him in equal part.

"You're welcome." He flashed her a grin, before manoeuvring his way to the drive-thru window.

"Welcome to Beltway Burgers. How can I serve you today?" A tinny voice sounded through the speaker by Harm's window. A speaker shaped like a burger, Harm marvelled.

"Um..." Mac leaned over Harm to place her order. "A Double Bacon Burger Combo, extra beef patty, with a chocolate shake, please."

She wasn't touching him, really, as she leaned over him but she was so damn close. He wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through her hair, trace the line of her cheekbone, preferably with his lips—he turned his head to stare out the window, looking for a distraction.

"Will that be all?" The tinny voice asked.

Mac glanced at Harm as she straightened back in her seat.

"Anything for you? They have salads and a grilled chicken sandwich." She offered.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain some equilibrium. "Ah, no thanks."

"Oh. I almost forgot." She leaned over him suddenly, and spoke to the speaker. "Can you add cheese to my burger, please?"

"That is disgusting, Mac." Harm told her, saying the first thing he could think of to keep his mind off how close she was, and how his fingers itched to touch her. She punched his arm lightly in warning, her attention fixed on the speaker.

"Double Bacon Burger Combo, with cheese and extra beef. Of course, Ma'am." The voice sounded through the speaker.

"Thank you! That'll be all," Mac called out, and again straightened in her chair.

"Your total is 5.65. Please advance to the second window." The voice replied.

Harm shifted the car into gear and obeyed the speaker's directive.

"I cannot wait!" Mac enthused. "I've missed these burgers so much."

"We could've come back again, you know." He said, slightly appalled and more than a little curious as to what exactly her mammoth burger would look like. "You didn't have to put everything on one burger." The thought of what that sandwich would do to her arteries...

"Oh, darn. I forgot to ask for an order of onion rings." Mac sighed, looking disproportionately put out, ignoring his comment.

He shook his head in disapproval of her eating habits, but then gave in. After all, she had been without her prized grease slabs for 77 days.

"We can ask for onion rings at the window." He tried to console her. Words he never thought would come from his mouth. He came to a stop in front of the second window, and waited patiently for Mac to give his momentous suggestion proper thought.

"Nah," She glanced at him, hesitating only slightly, "I can get onion rings when we come back next time." She waited a beat before adding. "And I saw a new rib burger on their menu. I have to try that."

"Your taste buds thank you." He said in reply, just as a perky teenager slid the window open beside Harm.

"5.65 please." The teenager informed him brightly.

Harm reached into his pocket just as Mac reached for her purse.

"Mac, let me—"

"Harm, you don't—"

They both stopped and stared at the other. He could see the challenge in her eyes as surely as it was mirrored in his own.

He was quicker on the draw, pulling his wallet out of his pocket, and two fivers out of his wallet before she could even unbuckle her purse.

"Ha." He raised an eyebrow at her as he paid for her meal. "I win."

She rolled her eyes. "Unfair advantage." She pointed to her purse. "More barriers."

He took his change from the server, and handed Mac her bag of food and milkshake.

"Next time," he told her as he handed her the items, "You can treat me at Ho's Noodle House."

She accepted the proffered items from him, grinning as though she'd been offered the key to paradise. She looked near to rapture at the sight of the food.

She popped a fry into her mouth as she unwrapped her burger, and then took a massive bite. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, moaning in satisfaction even as she chewed. "Reason enough to live in DC for the rest of my life," She murmured, savouring her mouthful.

After a few moments of silent hedonism, she opened one eye to look at him. "Mind if I eat in your car?" She asked around a mouthful of burger, not looking conscious in the least.

He burst into laughter.

"By all means. Don't mind me." He couldn't help but watch her, still chuckling. He thought he'd be disgusted given what she was eating, but he was far from it.

"It's just been 77 days, Mac." He shook his head as he shifted the car into gear, and pulled out of the restaurant parking lot. "And it's not like you were stuck on a desert island without food."

"Might as well have been." She informed him, taking a sip from her shake. She was about to take another bite of her burger when she paused in mid-motion, and turned to look at him.

"Wait. Um. Did you say 77 days?" She asked him. Harm tightened his grip on the steering wheel while he searched for nonchalance. He hadn't meant to let that slip. He would not look at her. He would not look at her.

"You were counting?" There was no hint of banter in her voice. She sounded as though she didn't quite know whether to believe him.

He shrugged lightly, trying to pass it off as unimportant. "Counting the days until I could beat your six in court." He gave her a sideways glance, smiling slightly, putting them back on familiar ground.

She was watching him with great care, trying to see right through him, it seemed to him. She had that same indecipherable look in her eyes, this time tempered with what he would guess looked like thoughtfulness. He shifted in his seat and returned his attention to the road. He could feel her eyes on him. Should he say something? Something more? Why was he having such a hard time, swinging from comfort to unease like this.

Jingo barked loudly from the backseat, and Mac turned to look at him. Harm heaved a sigh of relief that the weight of her stare was no longer levelled at him. Although a part of him did wonder where exactly their conversation could've gone. And where would he have wanted it to go?

"Sorry, Jingo. You can't have fries. We've talked about this remember?" Mac told the dog. She was trying for a playful tone, but Harm knew her better than that. He bit back a sigh. This was easier over the phone. And harder, he reminded himself.

He'd thought seeing her would make everything click into its rightful place, and he'd know exactly what to do without having to think about it. In hindsight, he wondered why he'd thought such a thing. Mac had always been an enigma to him and his feelings for her even more so, right from the moment they first met.

He glanced at her, and saw that she was re-wrapping her unfinished burger.

Maybe he was just complicating things? Maybe things just were complicated. And what did she want? Did he really want what he thought he wanted? Did he want it enough? Did she?

So much for things clicking into place.

He pulled into a parking spot in front of Mac's building, shut the engine and popped the trunk.

"Home sweet home," she sighed, and then turned to look at him.

He realized that they hadn't spoken much on the drive from Beltway Burgers to her apartment. What had she been lost in thought over?

"Thank you, Harm." She offered him a smile, and he could see her exhaustion from the travel in her eyes.

He grinned in response as he stepped out of the car. "No problem, Marine. Let me help you with your bags. You look about ready to collapse."

They were back to pretending and ignoring. Old patterns, he supposed, were hard to break.

Harm grabbed Mac's duffle and suitcase, while she carried her dinner with Jingo close on her heels. They made their way to her apartment.

Once inside Mac's apartment, Harm deposited her luggage in her bedroom.

"Do you need help with anything else, Mac?" He called to her as he made his way back to her living room, where she was kneeling in front of Jingo, lavishing him with attention.

"Nah, thanks." She stood up to face him. "I think I'm just going to crash. Can't keep my eyes open."

She was looking up at him, head tilted back, eyes heavy with sleep. She looked tired and warm and so inviting ... He shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Okay, then. If you need anything..."

"I'm fine, Harm. Don't worry." She raised a hand to cover her yawn. "Sorry, I keep doing that," she apologized. "Jet lag's really hitting me."

He wanted an excuse to stay. Just to stay, to be in her company.

"The admiral has ordered—I mean," He amended with some mischief, "Invited us all to his place on Sunday. 1300."

"He did?" She asked, struggling to stay awake. If she was too tired for a comeback, he guessed he really should get going.

"Yeah." He nodded. "How about a ride?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

She absently reached up a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He noticed her earrings for the first time. He didn't know she had pierced ears. But he'd seen her wearing earrings before, he remembered. Like at the NATO ball. It probably hadn't registered. They were tiny earrings that dangled just below her earlobe. She had nice earlobes, was his next thought. He wondered how they would feel between his teeth.

He clenched his fists in his pockets and dropped his gaze to his shoes. He needed to get a hold of himself. He really should go. She was barely awake. She needed to sleep. His feet, however, weren't obeying.

"Harm?"

"Yeah?" He looked up to find her wearing a hesitant grin, and lightly biting her lower lip. He made himself focus on her eyes.

"Permission to hug the Commander?"

He broke into a full-blown grin at the offer.

"C'mere." He held out his arms.

She gave a delightful laugh and stepped into his embrace, much as she had 77 days ago. He held her tightly, tucking her into him. She felt as warm and inviting in his arms as she had looked minutes ago, standing in front of him.

She pulled back, gazing up at him, a smile in her eyes.

"Congratulations, Harm."

He was embarrassed to say that he actually forgot for a moment what she was referring to. His promotion, his brain kick-started, she was congratulating him on his promotion.

"Hey, aren't I supposed to get a kiss, too?" He was only half-teasing. Maybe he could get a peck on the cheek out of this.

To his utter surprise, and satisfaction, she stood up on her toes and placed a quick, soft peck on his lips. It happened so fast, he almost doubted it actually did happen. He could only stare at her as she stood in front of him with her hands lightly resting on his waist. He was smiling so widely at her gesture that his cheeks hurt.

"Thanks, Mac."

Reluctantly, he let her go, but held on tight to the lingering feel of her against him, of her lips on his. "So, I'll see you Sunday?"

"Sunday," she confirmed, watching him with that appealing sparkle still in her eyes.

Sunday seemed a long time away. He'd find a reason to see her before then. In fact, he already had one: most of Jingo's things were still at his place. Perfect.

"Sweet dreams, Mac." He resisted the urge to touch her by putting his hands back into his pockets.

She smiled warmly in response, and he decided it would be pretty easy to get lost in her eyes, the way she was looking at him.

"You too, Harm." She clasped her hands behind her back.

He exited her apartment after one long backward glance, and headed back to his car, convinced his feet didn't touch the ground the entire way.


	18. Day 80

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

A/N: Let me start with an explanation. I was looking over the story and it didn't feel finished. So I added some stuff – a lot of stuff – which amounted to a whole new 'chapter'. So now the story has 20 parts. I didn't post twice yesterday because I was writing this new part, and wasn't sure when I'd finish. You know the story: life that's full of obligations/responsibility stuff that just won't go away, and fun stuff that I'm not complaining about. Let me end with an apology for leaving you hanging.

--

18/20

**Day 80**

JAG HQ  
Falls Church, VA  
Friday  
0948 Local

Harm didn't bother looking up from the witness statements he was reading, as he reached out a hand to answer his ringing phone.

"Rabb."

"Hey, Harm."

"Mac." He grinned, straightening in his chair. He was surprised to be hearing from her so early given her jet lag. He'd actually planned on calling her later.

"You didn't manage to sleep in?" He asked. "You were barely awake when I dropped you home yesterday."

"Not really." She said dejectedly. "I was out like a light the moment I hit the bed, but it didn't last long. Being awake did give Jingo and me a chance to catch up, though. Isn't that right, boy." He assumed that she was addressing this last part to Jingo.

"I bet he misses me." Harm leaned back in his chair. Truth was he'd missed the mutt in his bed last night.

"Sure he does." Mac reassured him indulgently. "He keeps looking at the door, and this morning when we went for a walk, he randomly began chasing after this tall, brown-haired guy."

Harm laughed. "So," he said, shifting to the reason for her call. "What's up?"

"Nothing, really." She stated conversationally.

"Why did you call then?" Harm frowned.

"What?" She laughed. "It's okay if you call just because from an ocean away, but it's odd if I do it when we're in the same city?"

"Point taken." He grinned. When she put it like that...

"Actually, I wanted to know if you had plans for tonight."

If he played his cards right, Harm bet he might just get a dinner invite out of this.

"No, I don't." He replied, after pretending to give it some thought. "Why?"

"Jingo and I would like to invite you over for dinner, to thank you for taking him in while I was away."

Score one for Rabb. He pumped his fist. Victory.

"Tell Jingo I would be honoured." He said to Mac, schooling his tone not to give away his internal victory dance. "Two carnivores are going to feed a vegetarian. Can't wait to see it."

"You and me both." She teased.

"Should I bring anything?" He asked.

"We've got it covered, thanks. Can you be over for 1900?"

"I can." He assured.

"Great. We'll see you then."

"Bye, Mac."

"Bye." She replied. "Say bye, Jingo." She then instructed the dog.

Harm heard a bark come from the background, and laughed as he hung up. The mutt never barked on command for him.

--

Mac's Apartment  
Georgetown, DC  
Friday  
1904 Local

Harm knocked on Mac's door with some apprehensiveness. He didn't quite know what was going to happen tonight. He wasn't sure he knew what he wanted to happen. Well, he had some ideas. Maybe. He tightened his grip on the flowers he was holding. Flowers weren't overkill, he told himself. He was glad she was back. And looking forward to having dinner with her again. That was all.

Was that all? Their last few phone calls, their meeting her at the airport, the kiss by her front door, they seemed to indicate that maybe she wouldn't be averse to discussing the possibility of ... something. That indecipherable look in her eyes when she was watching him ... And he wanted that with her, didn't he? Isn't that what...

The door swung open, interrupting his confused thoughts.

"Hey." She greeted him brightly. "Come in."

"Here." Harm entered her apartment and thrust the small bouquet of wildflowers at her. He immediately kicked himself for his clumsy delivery; she'd just caught him off guard, opening the door so suddenly like that.

She took the flowers from him, her brow creased in confusion.

He shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It really is good to have you back, Mac."

"Thank you, Harm." She fingered the petals, then looked up at him wearing one of her rare, full smiles. He couldn't help his responding grin.

"You're welcome." He answered. "I also brought a treat." He tried to keep a straight face at her immediate bewilderment.

"You did?" Her brow furrowed again.

"Of course." He boasted, just as he saw Jingo amble towards him.

Harm crouched down to greet his former houseguest. "This is for you, buddy." Harm took a dog treat, wrapped in a napkin, out of his pocket. "Who's a good boy?" Harm scratched Jingo behind his ears, and tried to evade the dog's attempts to lick his face.

Jingo wagged his tail in approval once he had the biscuit safely clamped between his teeth, and happily sauntered to his spot beneath Mac's dining table.

Still crouching, Harm glanced up at Mac. "I have the rest of his stuff in my car. I can bring it up later."

"Sure thing." She replied, watching him with an amused look on her face. "I was just finishing up cutting the carrots for the salad. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"I'll help myself." He stood up to remove his coat and hang it up.

Mac nodded, and headed towards the kitchen, flowers in hand. Harm followed her.

"Smells good." He commented, leaning against the counter so he could watch her fill a vase with water, and arrange the flowers inside.

"It does, doesn't it?" She sounded very pleased with herself. She placed the vase on the counter, gave it an appraising look and then, seemingly satisfied, proceeded to cut the carrots laid out on the chopping board.

He would admit that he was flattered by the ceremony she'd put into arranging the flowers. That was a good sign, he thought.

"What did you make for dinner?"

"Grilled salmon with wild rice." She told him as she chopped.

He was suitably impressed, but it was more fun to tease her.

"How long did you have to put that in the microwave to cook it?"

"Funny." She glanced at him as she cut the carrots. "Keep that up and you won't—ow!" She cried out as the knife sliced through her skin. Harm rushed to her side, and took her hand in his. Tendrils of blood were spreading along her finger and one drop fell onto the chopping board. She was bleeding a bit, but he was relieved to note that the cut didn't look deep at all.

"Geez, Mac. Are you alright?" He asked, but didn't bother waiting for an answer.

Instead, he grabbed some paper towels, dragged her towards the sink, opened the faucet and plunged her finger under the cold water.

"Give a Marine a knife, and they just have to draw blood." His eyes flicked to hers, grin in place. His smile faded when he saw her watching him carefully. The way she was looking at him...

"What?" He asked softly.

She shook her head slowly, her eyes dropped to her hand, which he was holding under the faucet.

"Does it hurt?" He asked in the same, soft tone. His awareness of her filled the room, pressed against his chest.

She looked up at him, and shook her head again. He watched her hair flit lightly with the movement, glinting in the warm kitchen light. The muted glimmer in her eyes held him captive. With care, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, and let his fingers trail down her cheek, his thumb tracing her lips.

He had so much to say. He didn't know how to say it, where to start.

She seemed uncertain, her eyes searching his. Like there was a question on the tip of her tongue, one she wasn't sure she wanted to ask.

"Harm," She began. Her gaze shifted to their hands, clasped under the steady stream of cold water. She was nervous. "I..."

He leaned forward and kissed her, capturing her words before she could release them.

His act had been completely spontaneous, unthinking. The moment his lips touched hers, he forgot that he was stealing a kiss, that he wasn't sure what she was thinking, feeling. He stepped into her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and pulled her towards him, deepening their kiss. She responded readily. Her hand slid up his chest, and came to rest on his neck, above his collar.

He brought his other hand up to cup her cheek, needing more—

"Harm!" She yelped, grabbed his hand away from her face and pulled her head back abruptly.

His eyes flew open and he stared at her, confused and a bit disoriented by the sudden loss of her taste, and the lingering memory of it.

She was looking up at him, wide-eyed and laughing, though not trying to move out of his arms. That was a good sign.

"Your hand is freezing! And wet!" She wiped the side of her face with the back of her hand.

"Oh." He was too distracted trying to figure out how to go about kissing her again. "Is it?"

She studied his face for a moment, then leaned her forehead on his chest and sighed. He closed his eyes. This felt so right.

"Harm?" She asked tentatively.

He rubbed his dry hand along her back. His other was being held in place by his side, her wet fingers lightly grasping his wrist. Cool drops of water slid down his palm and onto the tiled floor.

"Yeah, Mac?" He whispered.

"What, um ... what was ... that..." Either she was catching her breath, or she was holding it. He couldn't tell.

He pulled back slightly to look at her, and the moment he saw her large, brown eyes looking at him, questioning and hesitantly hopeful, he was at a loss.

How often had he looked into the same eyes, seeing only a challenging rival, his partner, a great friend? And now...

He bent his head down and kissed the corner of her mouth. "Mac." He touched his lips to hers. "Sarah."

He rested his forehead against hers, and watched the expression on her face, fascinated. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow, her cheeks tinged with heat. And he'd only kissed her.

"I..." He brought his hand to the side of her face. He didn't know how to explain it to her. She opened her eyes to meet his, and his heart paused in mid-beat.

"Do you feel it?" He lifted her slightly damp hand and placed it over his heart. "This?"

He searched her eyes. He could see her surprise.

"Mac?" He prodded, his voice matching the intensity of this moment, "Do you?"

"I ... Yes. I do..." She was hesitating about something. His heart thudded in his chest. It seemed to him that the whole room was holding its breath.

"Are you sure, Harm?" She asked carefully. "I was gone for over two months, and you'd just come back to JAG..." She trailed off awkwardly. He watched as she rallied her resolve. "Maybe this is just ... because of that."

He shook his head.

"No. I am." He stated emphatically. "I am." He repeated in a softer tone. He didn't know how to explain it to her. "Our phone calls, Mac, they were all I looked forward to each week. And whenever we were talking, I could just ... see you. Feel you."

"Me too." She whispered, awed. "Me too." Tentatively, she lifted her hand up, and caressed his cheek.

"You're sure?" She asked. "We work together, and..." She trailed off, her eyes focussed on her fingers as they traced his features. He realized that she was just voicing worries, not really heeding them.

He tightened his hand around hers, where it was still resting over his heart. He kissed her cheek, the side of her face.

"I haven't felt this," He whispered into her hair, "With anyone before."

"Me neither. Never." She nuzzled the underside of his jaw, and he lost his breath.

"Mac." He slipped his hand along her lower back, un-tucking her shirt, and felt her soft skin beneath his fingers. Her slow release of breath fanned his neck.

She slid her hand under his shirt collar, undoing the top buttons. Her fingers trailed down his chest. This was so strange and wonderful, he thought, to have her touch him like this. And to touch her...

"I want to see you," He slid his hand from her back, around to her waist, up her stomach.

"Hmm." She kissed his chin, his neck, his collarbone. He could feel her breathe, the soft movements of her body against his palm.

"I want to feel you." He lightly tugged her earlobe between his teeth, and kissed his way to her mouth.

"Yes." She mumbled against his lips, then kissed him. He held her tightly, heard her low moan in the back of her throat, heard it echoed in his own voice.

He moved from lips to her jaw, and up to her ear. "I want to see your fire engine red toenails."

She laughed, her head thrown back, eyes sparkling with amusement, glinting with promise. He watched her intently, spellbound. He rested his hand in the curve of her waist, she was so warm, so soft. His thumb brushed a pattern over her skin. She sucked in a breath, her eyes darkening at his touch.

"I want you." He whispered, and leaned in to kiss her again, promising and demanding.

"Harm," She whispered thickly, and brought her arms over his shoulders, her fingers tangling in his hair.

He lowered his hands to her hips, down to her six, and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He stumbled blindly towards her bedroom, too busy enjoying how it felt to have her wrapped around him, and savouring her deep, consuming kisses to worry about his flight path. She was very distracting. He knocked over the vase of flowers on the kitchen counter, he walked into the side of her couch and nearly dropped her, he almost tripped over Jingo, who was watching them with mild interest, and he accidentally thumped her back against the bedroom door jamb.

"You missed," She laughed, as he held her against the door jamb. Between her and the obstacle course he'd just crossed, he was out of breath. She finished unbuttoning his shirt. "You keep missing." She whispered into his neck, and her hands...

"Sorry." He mumbled. "But you..." She kissed him and forgot what he was saying, what he was supposed to be doing ... Bedroom. He reminded himself. Bed. He took a step back and tried again to enter her room.

This time, they finally succeeded in getting inside, and he slammed the door shut with his foot, mindful of Jingo.

"You made it," She whispered, pulling back to look at him when he reached her bed.

"We did." He met her gaze. "We always do." He could see in her eyes all that he was feeling in his heart. A flash of clarity hovered just beyond his reach, and he searched her eyes for his epiphany. But then she smiled in a way he'd never seen before, and he sensed that the only thing he could ever really want was safely in his arms. He caught her smile on his lips and eased them onto the bed. All thought fled, banished by touch and taste, by sight and sound.


	19. Day 81

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

--

19/20

**Day 81**

Mac's Apartment  
Georgetown, DC  
Saturday  
0705 Local

Harm propped himself on his elbow and watched Mac as she slept, curled beside him, buried under the thick comforter. Winter's early morning sunlight was filtering through her curtains, casting the room in a shimmering white glow. It sparkled like snowflakes on her skin and in her hair ... Or maybe he'd just transformed into a huge poetic sap overnight.

He trailed a finger along her temple, down her cheek, over her lips. He knew it now, was certain beyond a doubt, that she was it for him. The thought was startling and exhilarating. He couldn't explain it.

He remembered a discussion he'd heard once, at one of his mother's gallery openings when he was a teenager. It was one of those topics of conversation that surfaced when art inspired and wine flowed. A friend of his mother's had said that nothing could really be known, unless that knowledge came with either doubt or faith. And even then, it could be either disproved or disbelieved. Her words had intrigued him, even comforted him given the complete absence of knowledge and his unwavering hope about his father, so he'd held on to them. As he'd grown and lived, he'd decided he disagreed with her. That the truth could be known was a fact he lived by. And, he could now say, love could be known. Beyond doubt, beyond faith.

His attention was drawn back to Mac as she shifted in her sleep, burrowing further into him. He placed his arm around her waist, and was rewarded with her nuzzling her face into his chest. He smiled, and shook his head at what he'd just been thinking. He really had morphed into one big giant sap overnight. A big giant sap who was floating ten feet above the ground on a massive freakin' cloud of bliss. He grinned. This really was an incredible feeling. He needed to share it with someone.

He could wake her up ... but she was still jet lagged. He should let her rest.

He watched Mac as she slept. He never would've pegged her for a cuddler. He chuckled. Then again, she'd always been full of surprises. Her toenails really were fire engine red. And her tattoo...

He felt her shift against him, and looked down to find her awake, watching him with the remnants of sleep soft in her eyes. She looked so warm and inviting...

He slid down so that their faces were level, and kissed her, taking his time, having missed her after only a night's sleep even though she'd been lying right next to him.

"Morning." He greeted as he pulled away.

"Good morning." A smile lit her eyes.

He touched his fingers to her cheek.

"You have beautiful eyes." He whispered.

She gave him the smile he'd only been introduced to last night.

"And a beautiful smile." His thumb caressed her lip.

"So do you," Her voice was low and intimate and content all at once. He'd never heard her speak like this before, but he knew that he would not be able to deny her anything if she asked him in this particular tone. Then her words registered, and he broke into the grin she'd just been admiring.

"So you aren't immune!" He'd always thought he could charm her with a flash of his smile, despite all her protests to the contrary.

"Well," she grinned, "I think I lost what immunity I had last night."

"And how do we test this theory?" He cocked an eyebrow, and trailed his fingers down her neck, drawing a straight line from the hollow of her throat to her belly button. He watched her expression, felt her breath hitch in her chest, and was awed by the pleasure she took in to his touch.

She brought her hand to rest on his chest, her palm searing a heat that spread to his fingers and toes. He thought that her answer, whatever it would be, already had potential.

"How about you offer me breakfast with a smile, and we see if I can refuse." She suggested with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She patted his chest affectionately.

He laughed, and rolled on top of her. He trailed a slow path of kisses along her neck and collarbone before pulling away, giving her his most disarming smile. "How about I make you omelettes later, and give you a breakfast à la Rabb now?"

Her laughter faded into a moan of pleasure as his lips followed the path made by his fingers moments ago.

"Definitely lost my immunity," She told him, as her hands came to rest on his shoulders.

He looked at her, and saw her lying against her pillows, eyes closed with contentment. He'd told her last night that he'd never felt this way with anyone before. And after last night he knew he would never feel this way about anyone else.

He pushed himself up so that his face was right above hers.

"Mac."

She opened her eyes, and looked into his.

"I ... I meant what I said last night. I haven't felt this way about anyone before." He kissed her on her forehead, her nose, and lightly on the lips. "I love you."

There was that smile again. He'd only seen it three times, only since last night, but that smile and that look in her eyes, they did great things for his heart, his ego, him.

"Harm." The emotion in her words and the solemnity in her eyes were overwhelming. "I love you."

He smiled, he laughed. This is what it felt like. It was ... perfect.

"I love you." He kissed her collarbone and she sighed in contentment.

He slid down her body and kissed her belly button as her fingers caressed his hair. He looked up at her; her eyes were again closed, her lips slightly parted, head thrown back. It reminded him of how she'd looked near rapture at the sight of her burger and fries yesterday. He grinned.

He felt giddy and reckless and confident all at once. He wanted to make her feel the same way.

"I love you like French Fries love ketchup." He waited for her reaction, lightly biting his lip.

Her eyes popped open, her brow creased in surprise. She looked down at him, laughter in her voice. "Really?"

Making her laugh also did great things for his heart, his ego, him.

"Oh yeah." He resumed exploring the dip of her hip bone, and listened to her hum of approval. "Like ice cream loves chocolate sauce." He nibbled his way to her belly button. "Like strawberries do cream." He looked up at her, resting his chin on her tummy, and grinned. "Like Tomcats love jet fuel."

She propped herself on her elbows, her eyes sparkling in the morning-lit room, her nose wrinkled. "Ew. That is gross."

His grin widened; she was a marine after all. "Like rifles do scopes."

"Now we're talking, Sailor." She dropped back onto the bed as he ran his hands along her waist, and moved up her body, resuming his exploration. Was there any part of her that wasn't beautiful. Even her toes were pretty. And her ears. And her neck. And her collarbone – god, her collarbone. And she had the most amazing …

"Hmmm, right there, Harm." She whispered breathlessly.

"You like that, French fry?" He murmured into her skin.

Her laughter hopped and skipped through the bedroom.

--

Mac's Apartment  
Georgetown, DC  
Saturday  
1005 Local

Harm opened Mac's front door and led Jingo in, the dog leash in one hand and a grocery bag in the other.

"Hey, buddy." He whispered. "Keep it down, alright? She might still be sleeping."

Jingo spared Harm a brief glance, and then silently walked towards the kitchen. Harm watched him go, wearing a smile. That dog had really grown on him.

The sound of a cupboard closing and dishes clattering shifted Harm's attention to the kitchen. So, she'd woken up while he had taken Jingo out with him to buy breakfast fixings.

Harm walked into the kitchen and saw Mac putting away the remnants of their uneaten dinner, Jingo now sitting by her feet. Her hair was slightly wet from a shower, and she was wearing a satiny robe that ended mid-thigh. She had gorgeous legs, too, he mentally added to the list.

He deposited the grocery bag on the counter, walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.

"Hey." He whispered into her ear.

"Hey," She responded, leaning back into him. He could hear contentment in her voice.

"We didn't even get to dinner," he apologized. She must have put a lot of work into it, only to have to throw away the salmon which had been left out all night.

She shrugged lightly, a smile on her lips. "That's alright. I much preferred what we did get to."

He laughed. "I'm honoured." He kissed her ear. "Sorry about the salmon, I didn't think to put it away. I was distracted..." He nuzzled into her hair.

"I'm honoured," She bumped him playfully with her shoulder as she spooned the wild rice into a container.

"You should be, French fry." He kissed her neck.

She giggled and glanced at him as he rested his chin on her shoulder, "You're really going to call me that?"

He nodded happily, watching as she sealed the lid on the container of rice. "You bet."

She turned around to face him, resting her hands on his lower arms, "Really?"

"You betcha. Why? You got a problem with it?" he nudged her nose with his.

She looked away, biting her lip to hide an embarrassed smile.

He grinned. Would he ever get enough of making her blush?

"Besides, it's the perfect nickname for you."

"Why?" she asked, eyebrow arched with scepticism, "I'm a deep fried complex carb?"

"Complex?" He repeated slowly, and pretended to think about it.

Her eyebrow inched higher and he knew she had a comeback all ready, so he decided to take a different route.

He loosely rested his hands on her waist. "Well, potatoes are a staple in many diets. You're a staple in my life."

"Romantic, Rabb," Her voice held a teasing sarcasm, but her smile gave her away. She slid her hands around his neck and leaned back against the kitchen counter, waiting for him to continue.

He nodded in acknowledgement. "French Fries are tall and slim," he gave her a slow once-over. "So are you."

She laughed, and batted her eyelids with exaggeration. "You're too good to me."

He chuckled. These playful moments he thought, would more than made up for anything life could ever want to throw at him.

"French fries can lead to cardiac arrests. And, baby," he winked at her, "Every time I look at you it's like I'm having a heart attack."

She laughed so hard at that, she had to rest her head on his chest to catch her breath.

"That was awful!" She told him, still chuckling. "How long have you been working on that?"

He grinned. She never let him get away with anything. He loved it. He was beyond pleased this hadn't changed; and that they'd left all the awkwardness back in last Thursday, that it hadn't followed them.

"Since I saw the frozen fries in the grocery store down the street," he confessed.

"That's what? Twenty or so minutes? I am impressed." She was still leaning her forehead on his chest. He closed his eyes as he felt her warm breath through his shirt, and wrapped his arms around her. She felt so good.

"Harm?" Her voice vibrated against his chest, a second heartbeat. He was amazed by the intensity he felt around her, the keenness that made his body hum with anticipation.

"Hmm?"

"You want to hear how you're like Mushu Pork?" She mumbled into his shirt.

He laughed, tightening his embrace, and rubbed his nose gently in her hair – she smelled so damn good.

"Tell you what, French fry: why don't you show me."

She lifted her head to look at him, laughing.

"Can I have breakfast first?"

"Whatever you want, we'll do." He replied gallantly, with a kiss. "I'm going to make you my special mushroom and brie omelettes."

"Hm. Sounds delicious." She moved from his lips to his neck. "Can I help?"

"Not like that," He put his hands on her shoulders and took a step back. "We won't ever get around to having breakfast if you keep that up."

She grinned, seeming very pleased with herself. "Fine. Jingo and I can put away the leftovers."

Harm glanced at Jingo, who was still indolently lazing by Mac's feet.

"He'll be a huge help." He said, heavy on the sarcasm.

Harm saw the challenge in her eyes, as she gave him a brief, pert glance before turning her attention to Jingo.

"Come, Jingo." She tapped her thigh, and Jingo looked up at her. "Let's get to work."

As she picked up the leftover containers, Jingo stood up and trotted to the fridge. Harm watched in amazement as Jingo gripped the side of the fridge door with his teeth and pulled back, opening the fridge door.

"You've got to be kidding me." Harm stared first at Jingo, then at Mac, then at the open fridge door. "You have got to be kidding me."

Mac looked at Harm, full of smug vindication, "And you made fun of him." She knelt down to place the containers in the fridge, and then rewarded Jingo with a kiss.

"That's a good boy, Jingo." She scratched him behind his ears.

Harm stared at the duo. "How the hell did he learn to do that?"

Mac shrugged. "No idea. But it's incredibly useful." She gave Jingo a huge smile. "Let's get you some breakfast."

Jingo barked.

"Hey, Jingo. I need some eggs. How about opening that fridge? Let's get to work." Harm tapped his thigh, and waited for the dog to respond.

Jingo looked up at him, blinked once with disinterest, and then walked over to his food bowl.

"So that's how it's going to be." Harm muttered, and went to the fridge himself.

Mac's laughter was full of delight.

"I don't get why he doesn't listen to me," Harm complained.

"He thinks you're the reason he didn't get to sleep in my bed last night." She stood up and kissed Harm on the cheek in consolation, before taking out Jingo's dog food. That done, she began pulling out bowls, a frying pan and a chopping board from her cupboards.

Harm watched her, a smile on his face, and decided that the cold shoulder from Jingo was a small price to pay. He'd bring more dog treats with him next time. It took him a minute to remember that he was supposed to be getting eggs out of the fridge.

"Anything else you need?" She turned to face him.

"Knife?" He asked, as he pulled out the eggs.

"Drawer to your right," She instructed. "I'll get the coffee started."

He nodded, and then started emptying the grocery bag and preparing the mushrooms.

Once Mac had started the coffee machine, she hoisted herself to sit on the counter next to where Harm was chopping. His eyes flicked to her legs, as they dangled beside him. He couldn't help but notice how short her robe was.

"Careful," she warned playfully, "You don't want to cut yourself."

He chuckled, and turned his attention back to the mushrooms.

"Thanks for taking Jingo for his walk." She leaned forward and kissed his chin.

"No problem, Marine." He stilled his knife and looked at her. "Although I was expecting more than a peck as a thank you."

"Well then, come and collect, Sailor." She tilted her head in invitation, her tone flirtatious.

Harm moved to stand between Mac's legs and pulled her in for a long, slow kiss.

"Better," He told her, and went back to chopping his mushrooms. He worked in silence, enjoying the occasional glimpse of Mac's upper thigh that he could catch as she idly swung her legs. She was watching him work, and her attention filled him with a warm contentment. He couldn't keep the smile off his face.

He finished chopping and was about to ask Mac where he could find a whisk, when she pointed to the drawer to her left.

"Whisk." She informed him.

He glanced at her, eyebrow cocked, before pulling out the whisk.

"Thanks." He said.

"No problem." She paused a beat. "But I expected more as thanks," She was wearing a very inviting grin. He more than gladly obliged her.

"Better," she murmured, her eyes following him when their kiss ended and he returned to making breakfast.

When the omelette mixture was ready, Harm turned to the stove. He realized he didn't have any oil. He turned to ask her for its location, when she opened the cupboard above her left shoulder.

"Oil." She pointed to a bottle on the second shelf.

He looked at her, amused and impressed.

She shrugged. He laughed, knowing what she was waiting for.

"Thank you." He said as he reached over her to grab the oil, and gave her a thorough kiss.

"I have to say," She said as he began frying the eggs, "I think I might prefer making breakfast to eating it."

He thought that may have been the greatest compliment she'd ever given him. He gave her the smile he now knew charmed her.

"I know I do." He said, before turning his attention back to breakfast.

A warm silence again settled between them. He'd just added the topping mixture to the omelettes, when she spoke.

"Harm," The seriousness in her tone was palpable. He turned to give her his full attention, just a bit worried.

"How are you?" She asked, studying him carefully, "Really?"

He frowned, confused as to what she was referring to.

"About what happened at Christmas," She elaborated, her expression full of concern. "About your dad."

Harm stared at her, and then looked away. He shrugged, awkward and rigid.

"I don't know." Truthfully, he had tried his best to just not think about it. Which was easier said than done. Why was she bringing this up. It was bringing back things he was trying to ignore, things he thought he'd drowned on his New Year's Eve night out.

"Harm." She hopped off the counter and came to stand beside him. She rubbed her hand over his chest in a soothing gesture.

"I didn't mean to push you into talking about it, if you don't want to." She looked at her hand, where it rested on his chest. "I ... You told me once, remember, that I had to face things or I'd never get over them."

He looked at her, as she stood uncertainly in front him. He thought for the first time that maybe it was as hard to give advice as it was to take it. And he could see her concern for him, and this time he recognized the love he saw in hers eyes.

Harm heaved a deep breath, the cracks in his heart that had appeared after he'd heard Jenny Lake's story still hurt.

He took Mac's hands in his, and placed them on his waist. She looked up at him, frowning for an instant, before understanding his unasked question. She slid her arms around his waist, stepped into him, and held him securely in her embrace. He hugged her just as firmly, with his face in her hair. He turned around, and leaned back against the counter.

She didn't say anything, just held him. He thought that maybe this was why he'd wanted her there in person on Christmas, why a phone call hardly seemed like enough.

"It was so unexpected." He took a deep sigh, and rested his chin on top of her head. "First to hear a story about my dad from someone who saw him so soon before ... And then to hear that about him." He sighed, and tightened his arms around her. "But it's okay. I'm okay."

"It'll take time, Harm." Her breath was warm through his shirt, and it surprised him how much reassurance that simple sensation provided him with.

"I know." He said, "I know. I called my mom a couple of days after, and told her about the meeting. Well, the edited version."

"That's good," she sounded more confident than he'd felt when he'd made the call.

"I don't know about that." He tried to smile, but couldn't manage it. "It just made her all sad and distant over the phone."

"That's normal." She comforted him. "She loved your dad. And to hear something like that, not so long after your trip to Russia..."

"I know." He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. "But I just brought it all back."

"No, Harm." She shook her head, her hair rubbing against his chin. "She would've wanted to hear it."

"That's what she told me, too." He acknowledged with some reluctance. He wasn't convinced, not after hearing the tears in his mother's voice.

"And she'd know best." She rubbed her hands up and down his back. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the care and affection he felt in her touch. He had been telling her the truth. What was it about her that made everything seem so different? Even something as simple as preparing breakfast the morning after ... Omelette, Harm remembered. He couldn't burn her breakfast: two ruined meals in a row might was just unfathomable. He stepped back, and was surprised to find tears in her eyes. He frowned lightly, confused by their presence.

She shook her head quickly and blinked them away, trying to dismiss his worry.

"The smell of omelettes in the morning always brings tears to my eyes," She joked.

He laughed and pulled her in for a quick hug. "Thank you," He gently kissed both her eyes, and then placed a quick peck on her nose. "And you can collect on the proper thank you after breakfast."

"Count on it." She told him, wearing the smile that had been hidden until last night.

"I am." He tapped her nose with one outstretched finger. "Let's eat."

--

"Thanks for breakfast, Harm." Mac leaned back in her chair, "It was incredible."

Jingo looked up from his seat at the feet of Mac's chair, alerted by her movement. Once he was satisfied that she wasn't going anywhere, he lay his chin back on his paws.

"I had a good time making it." Harm shrugged away her thanks with a smile.

"I had a good time watching you make it." She reached across the table and entwined their fingers. He thought she looked about ready to fall asleep, obviously still not over the jet lag.

"Why don't I clean up," he squeezed her hand, "You can take a nap. I need to take a shower anyways, so you can get some shuteye."

She looked very reluctant, he thought.

"How about I clean up, while you go take a shower." She suggested, "Then we can reconvene and ... decide what to do."

He knew that look. A shower could end up being redundant. He was definitely floating on a big freakin' cloud of bliss.

"How about I clean up and take a shower while you nap, and then we can reconvene." He gave her his best smile. Now that he knew she wasn't immune...

She watched him for a moment, looking from his mouth to his eyes.

"You didn't change your offer." She said in an accusing tone. After a moment she added, "And don't try to charm me. I changed my mind. It won't work on me." She pursed her lips, and set her jaw. He knew her stubborn mode when he saw it.

He figured it might just be better to give in. He'd save his killer charm for when it really mattered.

But who said giving in couldn't be entertaining.

"Fine." He shrugged. "If you want to clean up after me—"

Her eyebrows shot up.

"I'm not—That's not..." She stuttered and, at an apparent loss for words, settled for glaring at him.

He grinned, feeling very smug. Teasing her was even more fun now. He was about to rub it in some more, when her fierce glare was overtaken by a yawn.

She had the grace to look slightly guilty for digging in her heels.

"Mac," He said, tugging lightly on her hand. "You need to rest up. You report to JAG on Monday, and we have to go to the admiral's tomorrow," He reminded her, then added "Besides, you still have to collect on the thank you I owe you. You need to rest up for that."

That seemed to be incentive enough for her; and he watched as she slipped out of stubborn mode.

"Alright, fine." She relented. "How about we both clean up and then you go for a shower while I take a quick nap."

"Deal." He sealed it with a kiss to the palm of her hand.

They both stood up and began clearing the table. Working together, it took them less than ten minutes to wash, clean and put everything away, with Jingo at Mac's heel the entire time. Harm was amazed by how protective he was of Mac. Or perhaps attached might be a better word.

Once they were done, Harm took Mac's hand and pulled her into her room. Jingo, anticipating their course, bounded ahead of them into Mac's room, displaying more vigour than Harm had seen since he'd met the old dog. When they reached her bed, Jingo was already comfortably settled on top of her covers, at the foot of the bed. He was watching Harm with an expression that clearly indicated he would not be giving up his spot.

"Turnabout is fair play, I guess." Harm conceded to the dog.

Mac looked from Jingo to Harm, and giggled. "It's a big bed." She offered.

Harm gave her a sceptical look, and tried to size up the bed. He was pretty tall, after all.

"So," She tugged on his shirt to regain her attention, "Do I get a bedtime kiss?"

Before he could answer, she stood on her toes, leaning into him, and delivered a long, slow kiss. He relished how his body responded to her, how anticipation settled thick and heavy under his skin.

He pulled away before she could make him rethink their deal.

"Sweet dreams, Mac." It felt great to say it to her in person.

"It's better when you're also here to say good morning," Her sweet grin melted his resolve.

He sighed. He was one big giant sap. A big giant sap who hadn't touched the ground since she'd kissed him on Thursday. She was definitely the one who was immune to charm between the two of them.

"I can take a shower later." He was rewarded with a full-blown smile from her. "Let's get you some sleep." He nudged her towards the bed, and followed her under the covers. It was a big bed, he conceded. Two humans and a dog.

"Thanks, Harm." She mumbled into his chest, once they were settled.

"I'll collect later, Marine." He replied.

Her light laughter turned into a yawn, and he watched as sleep claimed her.


	20. Day 82

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

A/N: Thank you for reading, and for the comments/reviews.

--

20/20

**Day 82**

On the road to MacLean, VA  
Sunday  
1238 Local

"The Admiral just invited everyone from JAG to his place for chili?" Mac asked him, seated in the passenger side of the car.

"Yeah. He won an award for this chili recipe years ago. The topic came up Wednesday when we were in the break room. Harriet said her grandfather's chili is the stuff of legend. He challenged her to a cook-off."

Mac stared at Harm in amused disbelief. "Poor Harriet."

"I'd say poor admiral. I never knew Harriet had such a competitive streak. The admiral asked – well, ordered really – us poor bystanders to be judges. I just wanted a cup of coffee."

She laughed, one hand coming to rest on his arm. He watched her from the corner of his eye, enjoying this side of her. She was a lot less … reserved around him since Friday night. And a lot more tactile in these small ways.

"This has disaster written all over it." She grinned.

"I don't know whose bad side I'd rather be on, the admiral's or Harriet's." He added. He took her hand in his, and rested them on his thigh. He glanced at her, and they exchanged a warm smile.

They fell into a comfortable silence as he navigated the streets towards MacLean.

"Harm." By the tone of her voice, he knew she was worried about something.

"Yeah?"

"We haven't talked about what we're going to do about work." She was watching him carefully.

That was true, Harm thought, and rather uncharacteristic for both of them. But they'd been busy doing other things … More enjoyable things. He grinned, remembering what they had been doing. He never knew that Mac could—

"Harm!" She shook his hand to get his attention.

He snapped from his thoughts and looked at her.

"Yeah?" Maybe she wouldn't realize where his thoughts had been.

"Where were you?" She grinned as she said this, and he knew she'd caught him out.

"We aren't breaking any regs." He ignored the smug look on her face, and tried to get the conversation back on track. "We'll talk to the admiral on Monday. See him first thing in the morning."

"Okay." She nodded slowly, considering his suggestion. "So we play friends and coworkers this afternoon?"

He tightened his hold on her hand.

"We're still coworkers, Mac, and we'll always be friends." He felt a bit thrown off by her statement. Things had changed, but not that much.

She wrapped both her hands around his. "That's not what I meant." She reassured him. "But we didn't really leave my apartment all day yesterday, and you haven't exactly been keeping your hands to yourself." She teased him, one eyebrow arched mischievously.

He couldn't help but laugh. "Neither have you, Marine."

"That's the difference. Marines have great willpower." She stated with a conviction that had to have been drilled into her at boot camp.

"We'll see." He challenged. This had a lot of potential.

"We will see." She affirmed.

He brought her hand to his lips. "So we keep this to ourselves until we talk to the admiral tomorrow morning?" He glanced at her.

She nodded, and then broke into a huge grin.

"I can't wait to see everyone again! This is going to be such fun."

"Except the bit about the admirals' pride and Harriet's family honour being on the line." He pointed out.

"You can be so dramatic." She rolled her eyes.

--

Chegwidden Residence  
MacLean, VA  
Sunday  
1254 Local

"Ready?" Harm asked Mac as they stood on the admiral's front deck.

She nodded, and reached forward to ring the doorbell.

"You?" She asked in return.

Harm spared the door a quick glance before leaning in to deliver a brief kiss.

"I'm always ready," He stated arrogantly.

She laughed, and pointed a finger at him. "I told you Marines have better willpower. Keep your hands to yourself."

"I did keep my hands to myself," He lifted his hands to show them to her, and leaned his face in towards her, "But you didn't say anything about—"

The admiral's front door swung wide open, causing Harm to abruptly drop his hands and turn towards the door – but not before catching Mac's victorious grin.

"Ma'am!" Bud exclaimed, smiling widely when he saw Mac. "The Commander wasn't sure you'd be able to make it!"

"And miss a chili cook-off?" Mac asked with a touch of drama.

Harm rolled his eyes. Mac and meat.

"How was Ger—"

Before Bud could finish the question, Harriet appeared, holding AJ in her arms.

"Harriet! You look great." Mac exchanged a hug with her friend.

"You too, Ma'am! It's great to see you." Harriet enthused. "How was the trip?"

"It was alright." Mac shrugged, and then broke into a smile. "But it's great to be back home."

"Hey, don't I get a proper greeting?" Harm teased, as he watched the warm reunion.

Mac rolled her eyes, while both Bud and Harriet laughed.

"And is this little AJ?" Mac exclaimed, tickling the blond boy Harriet was holding. AJ shrieked with laughter. "How's my godson? Can I hold him?" She asked Harriet, her eyes wide with eagerness.

"Of course!" Harriet handed AJ over to Mac, who carefully took him in her arms.

"Aw, Harriet! He's even bigger than he looked in the pictures." She smiled at AJ. "Hey, little man. Your Aunt Mac missed you so much! Can you say 'Mac'?"

Harm laughed. "There's a while for that yet, Mac." He came to stand next to Mac, placing one hand on her shoulder, and tickling AJ lightly with the other. "Besides, his first word is going to be 'Harm'." He glanced at Mac, grinning, before focusing on AJ. "Isn't that right, buddy?"

AJ clapped his hands and gave Mac a huge smile. She grinned in return and then turned to look at Harm, full of vindication.

"Ha." She stated, before turning her attention back to AJ. "You look so handsome in the pictures your mommy sent me, Sweetheart." She looked up at Harriet. "Thanks for the pictures, Harriet. They really made it easier to be so far away..." She trailed off uncertainly, and Harm felt her tense beneath his hand.

He looked up to see what caused Mac's reaction, and found that Harriet was watching them, her expression an odd mix of delighted curiosity and reserved speculation. Harm realized he and Mac were standing in a rather intimate and comfortable position – his one arm around her while she held a baby…

He took a step back from Mac as casually as he could.

"So, Harriet." Harm decided that now would be a good time to change the subject. "Is your secret family chili recipe ready for the challenge?"

That seemed to be enough to distract Harriet. She turned to Harm, her usual sunny exuberance in place.

"You bet, Sir. The admiral doesn't stand a snowball's chance in he—" She glanced at AJ and amended, "Heck!" She declared categorically, then after a slight hesitation, added, "Respectfully."

They all laughed, even AJ joined in.

"Well," Harm replied, "Now that Mac's here, you'll have a judge who knows what they're talking about." He turned to Mac. "Isn't chili a big deal in Arizona?"

"You can't compare Arizona chili to Texan chili, son." The admiral stated. All four turned, surprised to see him standing in the hall, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest.

"No, Sir." Harm fought his smile.

"Good to see you, Colonel." The admiral said warmly to Mac. Harm watched the exchange, admiring Mac's bright smile as she stood surrounded by people whom she cared about, and who cared about her.

"Thank you, Sir. It's good to be back." Mac gave the admiral one of her rare full-blown smiles. Although given what he'd seen of Mac since dinner on Friday, Harm was pleased to note that he didn't think it quite as rare anymore.

"Things go well in Germany?" The admiral asked.

"Yes, Sir."

Chegwidden nodded, before turning his attention to the entire group assembled at his front door.

"Everyone in the living room. The rest of the judges are waiting. We begin in ten minutes."

They followed the admiral to the living room, Bud and Harriet walking ahead of Harm and Mac, who was still holding their godson. Harm glanced at Mac as she charmed AJ. He caught himself smiling at the picture they made. The way AJ was looking up at her, she definitely had herself another lifelong fan.

They entered the living room, and Mac was greeted by the rest of the JAG staff, including Mattoni, Tiner and Gunny. She was also introduced to Singer. Harm thought Singer looked like she was sizing Mac up, but he could've been mistaken.

The rather noisy reunion amongst the JAG staff was put to an end when the admiral asked everyone to settle down.

"Here are the ground rules." The admiral began once everyone had taken a seat. Harm, conscious of maintaining an appropriate distance, sat on the couch next to Mac. She held a happily fidgeting little AJ on her lap.

"You are to judge each chili based on taste, aroma, texture and originality." The admiral continued. "The chili will be presented to you in identical bowls, with no outward indication of whose chili you are tasting. This will ensure that your decisions will not be influenced by any undue fears that I will scuttle your careers or that Harriet will become your worst administrative nightmare, should the results not work in either of our favour." He glanced at Harriet, frowning in mock warning.

The staff collected in his living room laughed at the admiral's uncharacteristic display of good humour.

"My entry is my original Trident Burner Chili. Lt. Simms," The admiral nodded towards Harriet, handing her the floor.

"My entry is my grandfather's Southern Devil chili. The recipe has been in our family for three," She glanced at AJ, who was trying to make a grab for Mac's earrings, and added with a smile, "And now four generations."

"We'll bring out the bowls when the chili is ready to taste." The admiral concluded. He and Harriet left the room, heading towards the kitchen.

Harm watched them walk out, and turned to look at Mac.

"They're taking this very seriously, aren't they?" She asked him, watching AJ as he pulled on her necklace.

Harm gently extracted AJ's fingers from around Mac's necklace. The kid had a surprisingly strong grasp. "You didn't see them in the break room on Wednesday when the topic came up." He grinned at Mac. "I'm surprised they haven't handed us pre-printed scorecards."

Mac laughed, and Harm watched in amusement as AJ joined in on her infectious laughter.

"What's so funny, buddy?" Harm asked AJ.

AJ garbled a response, his grubby hand tightly holding Harm's index finger.

"You tell Uncle Harm, AJ." Mac encouraged him playfully. "Can you say 'Mac' for me, little man? Say 'Mac'."

AJ giggled and bounced on her lap.

Mac gave Harm a knowing glance. "He's getting there," She informed him.

Harm was about to respond, when the admiral called everyone into the dining room.

"I'll just give AJ back to Harriet," She told Harm, and then turned to AJ. "That way Aunty Mac can enjoy her chili."

AJ drooled in agreement.

"See," Harm told Mac, grinning. "He's more like Jingo than you think."

"Harm!" She gave him a disapproving frown before heading off to find Harriet.

--

Harm stood with a bowl of chili in hand, chatting with Mattoni and his wife about the merits of chili number one versus chili number two. He glanced around the room, while Mattoni and his wife argued lightheartedly about their chili preferences, and saw Mac talking with Tiner and Gunny. She'd been chatting with someone or the other since she walked into the dining room, holding a bowl of chili instead of a godson. He was waiting patiently for her to make her way to him.

Mattoni and his wife had just excused themselves to get another drink when Mac finally reached him.

"Hey," She smiled at him.

"Hey." He grinned.

Her eyes flicked to his bowl of chili.

"You're eating chili." She was staring at him.

He shrugged. "The admiral was going to throw some veggie burgers on the grill, but the freezer brand he has is absolutely disgusting, so I opted for this. Besides, have you ever tried to say no to Harriet…" She was still looking at him, an odd expression on her face, her eyes traveling from the spoon of chili in his hands to his face and back. It was a bit disconcerting.

"What?" He asked, putting a spoonful of chili in his mouth.

His question snapped her out of her daze. To his confusion she looked over her shoulder and, seemingly satisfied that no one was within hearing distance, leaned forward until she was mere inches from his face.

"I, uh, I'm a bit embarrassed to say just how turned on I am at the sight of you eating … red meat." The last word was barely a whisper as her eyes latched onto his lips, and then his eyes.

Sweet mother of … This was unexpected. There was what could only be described as a hungry look – tempered by a slight embarrassment – in her eyes. Harm swallowed heavily. It was a stupid thing to do with a mouth full of chili, which went down the wrong way. He coughed, choking on the meat. His eyes watered and Mac rushed to pat his back.

"Harm! It's okay. It's just like eating vegetables. Just chew and swallow." She said solicitously. He could hear the amusement in her voice, and rolled his eyes through his tears.

"Sir…" He heard Harriet's concerned voice. Great, now he had an audience.

"Are you alright, Commander? Is it too hot for you?" And the admiral. Great. Just great.

"He's fine, Sir." Mac answered, now rubbing circles on his back. "He's not used to eating meat. I think he forgot how to." She teased.

Harm decided revenge would be sweet.

He coughed a few more times, and took a glass of water that someone was holding in front of him.

"Ah. I'm fine, Sir, Harriet. Thank you." He cleared his throat and offered a reassuring smile before turning an accusing glare at Mac.

"If you'll all excuse me…" He left the small circle and made his way through the Admiral's house towards the nearest washroom. Stupid meat. No wonder he never ate the stuff … Although if he'd known how Mac would react like that to his eating it, he might've started consuming it years ago. Probably that first time they ate her peace offering on his bed. That would've made for some definite fun.

A few minutes later, Harm was exiting the washroom when he heard Mac's voice drifting from the kitchen. He'd bet good money she would come to check on him. He ducked into the nearest room, and waited for her to walk by. He only had to wait a few moments. Just as she passed in front of the door, he shot his arm out and grabbed her. Harm pulled her into the room and pressed her against the wall. After giving one last look out the door to make sure no one else was in the hallway or had noticed his brilliant move of stealth, he ducked back into the room, shutting the door behind him, and locked it.

"I got you, Marine. Without a fight." He grinned arrogantly. "You should be ashamed."

"Harm! What are you doing?" She asked, alarmed. He rarely saw her look alarmed. He would take full advantage of it. Revenge was sweet.

"Come on, Mac." He held her arms against his chest, and nibbled lightly on her neck. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Where's your sense of propriety?" She pushed him away, but left her hands on his chest.

He watched her for a moment, grinning – panic was a great look on her – and then returned to exploring the graceful column of her neck.

"Really, Harm. This is unlike you, to be so…" She searched the ceiling for the appropriate word, but gave up after a few fruitless seconds. "I mean, we're in the admiral's house!"

"Unlike me, is it?" He asked, pretending to think her words over. "And here I was thinking the real me was finally shining through, just for you, French fry." He gave her what he thought was a winning smile.

"Don't use flattery on me." She warned. "You know better than to think it'll work."

He was pretty sure his flattery had worked really well yesterday. It was his charm that had encountered some trouble. Or so she said. The heady anticipation he'd been feeling around her all weekend was suddenly almost overpowering.

"God, I love it when you get all feisty and act impervious." He whispered into her ear. He knew they probably shouldn't be doing this, but he'd been admiring the wrap around dress she was wearing from the moment she'd emerged from her bedroom that morning. He trailed his fingers along her waist and to the knot that held her dress together. He wondered what would happen if he just tugged at it, would the knot actually unravel? He'd thought about it quite a bit since the morning.

"I am…" She trailed off when he kissed her jaw, and slipped one hand around her back.

"Feisty?" It was a task to keep talking when there was so much he'd rather be doing, like – his tongue traced the line of her collarbone – like that. "I know." He tugged on the knot he'd been thinking about for hours, and the front of her dress actually fell open.

He stared at her in awe. He hadn't really expected that to work. Shouldn't she have more holding her clothes together?

"Impervious…" Her breath hitched when he lowered his head to her chest, and slid his hands over her bare skin. "To your charms…Harmmmhh."

He loved it when she said his name that way. It was so … uninhibited.

"When you say my name like that…" His lips lazily explored a path to her shoulder.

"You…" She began, trailed off, and then tried again. "We have to stop…"

"We're not in uniform." He slid his hands to her hips, over her soft skin.

"We're in the admiral's guest room!" She protested, leaning heavily against him, her breathing laboured. "We'd be naked and we'd still be in uniform."

"Naked?" He asked, pulling her even closer into him. "Want to test that theory? Not that you have far to go…"

"Harm!" She pushed his shoulders slightly. "Please…"

"Alright, alright." He pulled away, scowling.

She laughed, out of breath, and rubbed her hands up and down his arm in a soothing motion. "Come on, Harm. Just a couple more hours. I'm sure you can wait."

"I waited long enough." He leaned his forehead against hers, his hands on her waist. "I don't see why I should wait anymore."

"Just two hours. And we're telling the admiral tomorrow," She reminded him, she placed her hands over his.

"Yeah." He reluctantly pulled his hands away from her skin, and began wrapping her dress back around her. He tried not to scowl at his own idiocy. Maybe dragging Mac into an empty room, with her wearing a dress held together only by a knot, while their physical relationship was still obviously new and explosive was not the best idea he'd ever had. He bent his head, concentrating on tying up the knot on her dress.

"C'mon, Harm." She kissed his forehead, he was comforted to know she sounded apologetic. "We should get back…"

He looked up at her with a frown, and studied her. How could she go from being unwrapped, to being so … normal. Was he the only one having a hard time with this?

"How can you just switch gears like that?"

She looked in his eyes, and heaved a deep sigh, full of longing. "It's not easy." She trailed a finger from his bicep down to the crook of his elbow. "Trust me. I would like nothing more than to see you…" She leaned her head back against wall, their eyes locked. "To feel you."

"Stop!" Harm quickly put out a hand. "Whoa there, Marine. Save it for the bedroom." He looked around at their surroundings and mumbled, "A bedroom where I can actually follow through on that."

"That was fun. I told you Marines have better self control." She gave him a diabolical grin.

"Cruel and unusual, Marine." He shook his head, amused. He took a deep breath.

"Alright." He told her. "Let's get back in there."

"Just a couple of hours." She said.

"Just a couple of hours." Harm repeated, already counting down the minutes until they could make a graceful exit. "And then we'll see how great your willpower really is." He added in warning.

"We should get back." Mac said reluctantly, breaking their rather heated staring contest.

Mac wiped lipstick from his lips while he finished straightening her clothes. She grinned up at him as she adjusted his collar, then gave herself a final look over and seemed satisfied. "Let's go, Sailor."

He unlocked the door, and held it open for her. As she exited the room, she looked at him over her shoulder.

"I—"

She stopped speaking abruptly when she walked right into the admiral, who was standing just outside the door. Harm's jaw dropped in horror. Crap. This was not good. He fervently prayed they didn't look like they'd been necking in their CO's guest room.

Chegwidden lightly caught Mac by the shoulders to steady her.

"Are you okay, Mac?" He asked, his expression one of concern. The look on his face however, transformed into one of suspicion when he caught sight of Harm gaping as he stood behind Mac, still in the bedroom. Harm shut his mouth.

"Did you two get lost?" He asked, his piercing gaze shifting from Mac to Harm and back. He crossed his arms.

"Yes, Sir." Said Mac.

"No, Sir." Said Harm.

They exchanged a look. Shit, Harm thought.

"I thought the washroom was in here," Mac tried to cover.

"I needed a quiet room to a make a phone call," Harm stated simultaneously. Their words stumbled over each other in awkwardness.

Harm thought he caught a trace of amusement flicker briefly in the admiral's eyes as he studied them, his expression thoughtful.

Harm remembered the golden rule he'd learned when he was sent to the principal's office for the first time in grade two: the less you said the better.

"I see." The admiral said slowly. He made a show of searching the room behind Harm. He looked first Harm, and then Mac. Harm felt like a specimen under a microscope.

"Would I be safe in assuming that you only make a habit of getting lost or making 'private' phone calls in quiet rooms when you're off duty?" He said after interminable seconds of silent scrutiny.

Harm felt his heart slowly crawl, shamefaced, down to his toes. Judging by the look on Mac's face, she was feeling pretty much the same way.

"Yes, Sir." They both stated, appropriately chastised. And embarrassed.

"Hm." The admiral said. He waited in silence, obviously expecting them to say more.

"Sir," Mac began, and Harm braced himself. It figured: Mac had probably never been sent to the principal's office as a kid. She wouldn't know the golden rule. "The Commander and I would like to meet with you, tomorrow morning to discuss a … matter."

The admiral's eyes narrowed, and he leaned back slightly, arms crossed in full CO mode. The admiral studied Mac speculatively, and then shifted his gaze to Harm. Harm decided he was going to have a long talk with Mac about the golden rule.

Finally, the admiral nodded his head, his eyes softened almost imperceptibly. "0900 it is, Colonel." Satisfied, he changed topics. "We're counting the votes to determine the winning chili. If you would both make your way to the living room." The admiral turned on his heel and left.

Harm watched him walk away, and then reluctantly turned to look at Mac. He supposed, technically, that he was the one who'd dragged her into the admiral's guest room and proceeded to unwrap her. He hoped she wasn't upset. Although, knowing how much importance she placed on her image at JAG and in the eyes of her CO, Harm was mildly terrified of her reaction.

"Mac," He began, intending to apologize, but when he faced her he didn't think she looked upset, just a bit worried as she watched the spot where the admiral had stood moments ago. He changed tracts, not wanting her to be fret.

"Everything will be fine, Mac." He glanced down the empty hallway before taking her hand in his. "We'll be fine."

After a brief silence, she turned to look at him.

"I know," She affirmed, her expression one of resolve. She broke into a slight smile, and tugged his hand playfully, trying in turn to put him at ease. "We'll talk to the admiral tomorrow – officially – and it will be sorted."

He shook his head, and tried to convey his meaning to her. "I don't mean just tomorrow morning. No matter what happens tomorrow morning at JAG, or at any other time, we'll be fine."

She looked up at him, searching his face. He waited for her to decide if she believed him, and if she trusted them.

Slowly, the smile that he now recognized as his spread across her face and shone in her eyes. At the sight of it, he was hit by the epiphany that had been escaping him all weekend. He realized that this is what he'd been missing, had been looking for. The life that was waiting for him, the home he was trying to find, the sense of belonging he thought he'd lost.

All of it in held in the eyes of the woman standing in front of him. His best friend, his confidant, his support, the person who mattered most to him in this world. And to think, he'd worked with her for three years, side by side, day in and day out, yet it took a 77 day TAD to another continent, an ocean away, for him to realize all that he felt for her, all that he wanted with her.

Life really was full of unexpected surprises.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Mac gave his hand a quick squeeze, before letting it go.

"We should go to the living room. And no private phone calls until we're back at your place." She threw him a quick conspiratorial wink, full of amusement and affection as she walked away.

He raised an eyebrow, and watched her retreating from. A couple more hours. And an entire lifetime after that. He followed her down the hall, wearing the same huge smile he'd had on for the past two days. He was going to enjoy every moment of this.

--

end.


End file.
